Christmas
by ChicagoFlowers
Summary: In the wake of a terrible travesty, Jay Halstead and Erin Lindsay are forced to drift apart. A strategy they've both mastered. To ignore and to pretend, so they won't have to think or even dare speak about it. But still nothing ever seemed normal again. Will they be able to mend what they had? A tale of an unspeakable tragedy. A Jay-centric FanFiction.
1. Chapter 1 : A Million Years Ago

**Christmas**

 **-:- A Million Years Ago -:-**

* * *

 _It must be difficult to_ _be a man in grief._ _Since "men don't cry" and "men are strong", no_ _tears can bring relief._

 _It must be very difficult to_ _stand up to the test and_ _field the calls and visitors._ _So she can get some rest._

 _They always ask if she's all right and_ _what she's going through, but_ _seldom take his hand and ask,_ _"My friend, but how are you?"._

 _He hears her crying in the night and_ _thinks his heart will break._ _He dries her tears and comforts her, but_ _''stays strong'' for her sake._

 _It must be very difficult to_ _start each day anew._ _And try to be so very brave -_ _He lost you too._

* * *

"Mr. Halstead?"

In life, there are certain moments that crystallises, memories that etches into neurones. Strung together with all that comes in between, they make up life. They stand out; _unforgettable_ and _unforgotten_.

The same number have been oh-so utterly persistent for the past five minutes as it continued to ring and ring and ring; nonstop. Call after call after call. And by the fourth call, Jay cursed under his breath before reaching out to grab his phone off the coffee table. He answered, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice for being woken up so early in the morning.

 _4:23am_

"Yea, who's this?"

"You're Erin Halstead's husband."

Then, there is marriage. After a decade or two, the moments have grown together to be one, in a spiderweb so complex it gets harder and harder to differentiate one from the next.

It's a life of separation and sameness all at once, shoes tucked the same way in the closet downstairs, bodies spooned neatly in a sweeping king size. The baby you plan for. The one you don't. The tinkling sounds of laughter, fierce rage of fights and small, sticky fingerprints ruining things you didn't even know you cared about.

He stopped for just a fraction of a second to evaluate that sentence because it sounds so strange to hear it first hand after such a long time. Besides it didn't seem like a question but a statement instead.

Technically speaking, he still is her husband. Until his signs those papers, of course.

She'd be back to _Lindsay_ and he'd be back to being _alone_.

"Yes." he swiped confusion and sleep from his eyes.

A sinking feeling settles in the pit of his stomach. It's either because of _this_ certain uncertainty or the burrito he had earlier for dinner.

Fumbling to his feet, he looked out the glass door to the balcony, the sky looked to be a wide bruised black-burgundy. The beginnings of a sunrise.

Erin and he used to love waking up early to watch the break of dawn. He smiled, remembering happier times.

"Yes. She's my wife. What's this-"

Then his mouth flew open, hanging dry at the words on the other end of the phone.

"No, that's impossible. She's-" Jay swung his legs out of the couch where he had been sleeping on and ran down the hall of his all-expense paid apartment.

 _She has to be in there._

There's little time for evaluation, for introspection. Maybe that's the point. Maybe then you would think too much about the moments that could have changed everyday. The chances not taken. The chances taken. The words not spoken. The words spoken. Not the obvious ones - the things you said and did. The _yes_ to a proposal. Deciding to go change Units. Agreeing to have a child.

"Erin!" he called out.

 _Shit!_

Pushing the door to his bedroom open and only to be faced with the sheer confirmation - flat and rumpled covers - of what the person on the other line had been so calmly explaining.

 _She was just here._

"I-she was here. She was sleeping-"

 _She was just here three hours ago._

There are the smaller ones. Turning over instead of melting into an embrace. Choosing to interpret a murk as indigestion instead of pain. Standing in front of a mirror in a dimly lit bathroom. Arms wrapped around waist. Smiles and laughter filled at the ever growing two months. _It_ will never be forgotten. The strong gripped. But that night was a reminder of ones limitations.

So close to falling apart.

The voice on the other end of the line was gentle, sympathetic. He knows that tone all too well. He has had used it himself. _To families of victims_. He's a cop. _Well, he was a cop._ Until one terrible mistake had him begging for forgiveness. _Literally._ With half of the District watching his humiliation.

"I'm very sorry."

* * *

 _ **The Night Before**_

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

 _I'll see you in court._

Those were her exact words. Sharp, cold, cut throat, she didn't even shed a tear. Not like he had.

 _I'll see you in court._

That was the last time he had spoken to her. It was at the District, where she works and where he too once had until his application for a transfer to the 87th Homicide was approved. And because due to departmental policy, a married couple cannot be working together, cannot be partnered together, and the timing couldn't have been spot on. They were months away from their big day.

 _I'll see you in court._

That was the beginning of the hell Voight had so eloquently said he'd prepare for him if he was ever to do anything stupid to hurt Erin. While he did wrote a beautiful recommendation letter for him when he was applying for a position at the 87th, he too had some beautiful choice of words for him by the time he was _forced_ to leave everything behind.

As promised and true to his word, Voight did made life a living hell for him. In just a span of twenty four hours, everything he've ever known disappeared. He lost his wife - he did that all by himself - job - Voight knows everyone and everyone knows Voight - and friends - no one wanted to speak to him anymore.

Stupid was a far cry from what he had ruined. A marriage of eight years - nine if they make it - accompanied with it's occasional ups and downs.

More than occasional to be exact.

He did what he did and now his marriage to the magnificent woman in all of Chicago was coming to an end.

The awful deposition yesterday with her and one of the best divorce attorneys in Chicago, whom Voight so conveniently had hired for her, who costs more than a man could count, couldn't have been more proof of that matter actually.

 _They're destructive for each other._

While he knows that the deposition was supposed to just be questions and answers based, a discovery device and leeway in what can be asked in trial - a compelled sworn statement - but somehow, by the end it turned violent and physical.

Well, it ended up violent and physical for him. Nothing he didn't deserve anyway.

Anyone who has had the pleasure of knowing Erin knows that she's got quite the temper, especially when things doesn't go as she had planned. Things and aspects that aren't in her control. For example, the things he did and didn't say or the _thing_ he didn't and wouldn't give back.

Physically, he was the only one who had gotten hurt. He would never hurt Erin.

But he did though.

Not physically. Not intentionally.

Psychologically, they were both scarred.

Working his jaw back and forth, he shook his head as he reflected on their _civil_ conversation yesterday.

He just knows how to tick her off. After all they've been together for more than a decade.

 _"Yea, we both know who it belongs to! Not me and not you! It's Ja-!"_

 _"Don't you dare, Jay!"_

She stared - more precisely, she glared - at him. Glaring into his soul and burning a hole right through him.

 _"C'mon Erin! It's been years. Just say it already! Say his-"_

A searing pain surged through his tinged left cheek that second later and he held his hand to it, looking pretty damn shocked. Much like the two lawyers in the room.

 _"Don't you dare bring..." she swallowed hard, "Don't ever try and make me!"_

It's been years and she still couldn't say it. He shouldn't have brought it up either way. It was pathetic of him, he just wanted her to listen.

 _It's a sensitive topic._

Always has and always will.

Now, he's in desperate need of something strong. Not whiskey or scotch because he's practically immuned to that clear brown liquid. It doesn't seem to do it's trick anymore.

 _Maybe absinthe could be of help._

He remembered, way back when he was a few months to becoming legal, his college roommate brought a bottle of the green potent liquid from Europe. And like most cultured college students, he drank it right from the bottle.

Drunk wise, it definitely did the job, though it burned like hell going down. It was worth it. From what he could remember, it was a different type of drunk. It was very clear-headed and everything had somewhat of a minor glow; beaming. _Angelic_. And the hangover wasn't particularly nasty. No hallucinations though or any of the said myth.

Too bad the liquor is banned here since he really needs a blast from the past.

A drink or two to wash away all that has happened over the past ten months away. It has been ten terribly long months of not seeing Erin.

 _And who's to blame for that?_

Since it's Christmas Eve, it's all the more reason to get belligerently drunk. He's not too fond of Christmas anymore. Not since - well, not since _that_ Christmas.

He made his way into the familiar bar, pushing past the crowd as he does. _Joe's_ as it's called. The guy who bought the place named it after himself.

 _How pretentious!_

 _Joe's_ is the only bar in a ten-mile radius that he's allowed to be in. Since many of the establishments in Chicago are either run by cops or firefighters, and most of those bar just happens to be around his neighbourhood, he's banned from entering almost all bars in the city. He knows for a fact that almost all, if not all of those bars, has a picture of him somewhere pinned on their walls.

 _Of course, as a courtesy from Hank Voight._

His deliberately clever plan was to make his life miserably miserable so he'd have literally nothing left in the end, just like Erin, and will be force to leave _his city -_ as he phrased Chicago to be. But he's not going to give up so easily. Ten months has passed and he's still here.

 _Surviving the aftermath._

As he was starting to mouth his order, a very familiar grinch sitting at the end of the bar caught his attention.

He'd recognise that caramel hair any day.

"Erin?"

 _Why is she all the way across town?_

She always drinks at Molly's. _Always_. Speaking of Molly's, they too have shut him out completely. And with good reason too. He can't blame them.

Knowing Erin, he definitely has a clue or two as to why she's here.

She seeks the freedom to knock back drink after drink after drink without the fear that somebody will run off and tell on her to her overbearing father. He isn't even her biological father. _Pseudo-father_. Either way he appreciates all that he's done for Erin and him, even if it was short-lived.

 _He can never hate the man._

Voight wouldn't be pleased if he knows what she's doing.

 _How long has she been doing this?_

It's dangerous nonetheless.

Since Erin has already beat him to his plan for the evening, he better keep a watchful eye on her and not get belligerently drunk.

After all, she's still his _wife_.

The hunched creature turned around slowly. Very slowly.

"Oh." That's all she said when she saw him. Hooded eyes focusing only briefly on his face. Then, she turned back, hollering at the bartender, "Another." she slurred, obviously already pretty far gone.

 _Shit!_

Jay glanced at Nick, the bartender whom he'd talk to ever so often about how he carelessly ruined all the good in his life, and he nodded slightly.

Carefully, he slid into the seat next to her. Grateful that she didn't protest. This either means that they're on the same level of civility or she's just too drunk to care.

From what he can clearly observe, the tumblers right before him, she's on her third drink. But judging by the state she's in and her high tolerance of anything potent, he doubts that's all she has had. She probably had a few shots before coming here.

He hopes she didn't drove herself. But now as he thought about it, he definitely saw a very familiar black Audi in the parking lot.

 _Why is she drinking alone?_

It's Christmas.

That's why she's here and that's why he's here too.

They're drinking to numb the holiday away.

A tradition of theirs for years now. A tradition for them to be silent. But this silence is something else entirely; weighty, sticky. Like the silly seasonal drink she's nursing right now.

He leaned against the stiff back of the booth and waits.

They haven't seen or spoken to each other in months and if yesterday's screaming match at the deposition was any indicator of what their marriage have become by the end, he can attest to that.

She drained her glass and signals to Nick. When he brought her a fresh one, he met Jay's eyes with a hidden message that he deciphered in a second.

 _If she's the girl you've been talking about, you're an idiot!_

He knows.

He is an idiot.

Jay nodded briefly at him.

Erin took another long swallow and set the glass down with little grace. A few drops slosh over the side; she had switched to a clear white liquid now and he's not sure the combination of the cocktail and the straight up is doing her any favour. It's a rough choice for drinking yourself sick but then again, Erin never made things easy for herself.

"What're you doing here?" her breath assailed him. He's pretty sure he got the equivalent of one drink just from that exhale.

"Having a drink." he simply says, pointing at his tumbler.

She turned her body away from his, with no small effort. She looks, well, she looks pretty drunk. That look she always gets from way too much alcohol is a mask she's now wearing. She also look exhausted and miserable.

He understands the feeling.

 _It's Christmas after all._

He glanced at her, uncertain of his next move, and sees that her eyes are bright with unshed tears. Her tolerance for alcohol and amongst other things has always been high, much higher than his, and the set of her jaw is noticeably tight.

Just like yesterday.

 _I want it back, Jay! You took it from me!_

He didn't say anything after her third drink or even fifth, deciding that she needed it much more than he does.

 _Don't you say it, Jay! Don't you dare! You know!_

She was just as shocked as he was as her palm connected with his cheek. He knows he deserved it.

Like she said, he definitely knows.

He knew how it would affect her and he still provoked her. But by the end of their legal union, it was all they've been doing.

"That's probably enough." he said when she was about to lift her tumbler up again. He wrapped his fingers around the cool cylinder of her glass, moving it carefully away from her.

He braced himself for her to protest, to scream at him like she would but this time, she's just looking past him.

"I want _it_ back, Jay." she whispered, "I need _it_ back."

"I don't have _it_. You know that."

He doesn't want to lie to her but it's really all the leverage he's got.

If he does give _it_ back, he literally won't have anything left.

A tear rolled down her cheek and she jabs at it with the heel of her palm, " _It's_ mine. You're mom gave _it_ to me."

"Actually, she gave _it_ to me."

It was a present for Christmas, four years ago. One that none of them got to use.

She raised her voice. "I want _it_ back, Jay! Do you think I'm stupid! I know you stole _it_ from me!"

 _Shit!_

He glanced quickly over his shoulder, confirming that they've drawn a few unwelcome stares.

"Ok. Let's just talk-"

 _...when are lawyers are present._

"I want _it_ back! I want _it_ back!" Another tear fell and he angles his body along the booth to try to shield her from view, knowing how little she would want to be seen in such state.

 _He knows her._

Erin's not one for public crying. Hell, she's barely even for private crying. He then realised that he should have cut her off earlier and kicks himself for it. _She's a bipolar drunk_. Always have. And sometimes, it's just too nerve wrecking not knowing when she'll be switching her emotions. They need to get out of here since the longer they sit here, the more exposed they are.

Still blocking as much of her as possible, he rested a hand on her knee, she doesn't resist the contact and he gentles his tone as much as he can. "Erin, we'll talk about this at h- once we're outside. C'mon, let's go-"

"We'll talk about this?" she exhaled, "Seriously? Our whole marriage was based upon not talking about it! Ok! There's nothing to fucking talk about! I'm divorcing you and you are giving me back what's rightfully mine!" her voice was shrill and he winced at her tone and choice of curse.

"Calm down. You're making a scene. This isn't the place to do-"

"I'm making a scene! You're the one who's making a scene! You did this! You ruined our marriage! You ruined our home!"

It's true. Now no one's living in that house. Not him and definitely not her. It's just there, waiting for someone to fill it's emptiness.

"Enough, Erin, ok. I'm sorry." he patted her leg gently, "Let's go."

She shook her head, "I'm not going with you." her voice was coarser than usual. It's congested like it always gets when she cries.

"I wanna go _home_." she whispered, hitching on that last word.

 _Home_.

He knows. He do too.

But he knows it'll never be the same.

"Ok. C'mon, Erin. I'll drive you." he started to stand to reach for their coats when her half-yell stopped him.

"I'm not going with you!"

"Ok, ok." he dropped back into the booth and she quiets down.

The other customers were somewhere between uninterested and compelled to watch. Erin turned away from him, salvaging the drink he had tried to take from her earlier. She took a long sip and he propped his chin in his hands.

 _Now what?_

There's a Christmas carol playing on the speaker in hushed volume and he's reminded of all the Christmases he's had with Erin and his family over the years.

 _Family._

They all loved her and she absolutely loved being a Halstead.

His mom, well, she adores her too.

His sisters and Erin got along so well that it just seemed like they've known each other all of their lives.

And the kids. Oh the kids absolutely worships her! She's definitely the cool aunt. She'd play with them every chance she's got. Hide-and-go-seek, hopscotch, tag, tea party, princess, duck-duck-goose, whatever games the kids wanted to play, she'd be up for it in a heartbeat. And he, he just loves watching her chase after the little munchkins.

His, _their_ \- he don't know - nieces and nephews would scream in joy whenever they'd come to visit and he knows for a fact that they're only screaming for her.

She's really good with kids.

Now, they all miss her. And have been practically begging for her.

He reciprocates the feeling.

 _"Where's Auntie Erin, Uncle Jay? I haven't seen Auntie Erin in many many many years."_

His five year old niece with tears in her ocean blues had asked a few days ago when he had went to his sister's to drop off the presents he had for them since he already knows he wouldn't be able to make it for Christmas dinner.

 _"It's one year, Bananabelle , not many many years. But, you know, your Auntie Erin is very very busy. She's catching bad guys, remember? To make the world a safer place."_

He lifted her into his arms as he explained.

 _"Like a superhero? Auntie Erin has superpowers!"_

Her blues, a definite Halstead trait, were glistening with hope. He and the rest of the family just couldn't break it to any one of the children that maybe, just maybe, they'd never see Auntie Erin ever again. And that last year's Thanksgiving may have been their last and only time to have fun with their aunt.

 _And who's responsible for that?_

He doesn't know what to do now. They're silent, breathing, thinking, staring but not at each other. He feels obligated to stay with her. To protect her now, for all the years he didn't.

Besides it's not ethically right to just leave his very drunk _wife_ all alone in a very foreign bar. Though he knows she wants him to do just that.

It felt like hours had past before she spoke again. Her voice pained with emotions. He knows that tone and he, to be honest, never liked it because it has that ability to tear him up.

"I can't be here, Jay. I need to go home. I gotta call - where's my phone?"

She fussed inside her bag. Movements; clumsy and jerky.

"I'll drive you home."

But he doesn't know where she lives.

No one would tell him.

"No! I'm taking a cab."

"Erin -"

"Jay, what? What? We're not married anymore! You don't get to play this game with me!" she said sharply.

"We're still married, Erin."

"Only because you're the one who's not making it easy on any of us. If you love me, Jay, just sign the fucking papers."

 _Divorce papers._

"I love you, Erin, and I'm _not_ signing the papers ... It's Christmas." he said helplessly and regretted it almost immediately when she turned on him. Cheeks reddened with fury.

"Don't you think I know it's _Christmas_?!"

He has pretty much given up worrying about the other patrons at bar. Besides he thinks they too have gotten used to their childlike bicker. Neither of them had ordered anything in nearly an hour.

Erin was half horizontal on her seat and he doesn't have to look down to see how tightly the heels of her boots dug into the floor. She couldn't have made it any clearer that she's ready to leave. And he's short of prying her fingers loose from the table and dragging her out of here by force was a plan he has no clue how to effectuate.

Reasoning with her has worked so poorly so far, a disadvantage. Then again, if they only knew how to avoid ineffectual patterns of behaviour, they might never have gotten to this point. So, it wasn't a surprise to him that he starts nagging her again, almost by rote.

"Cmon. Erin. I'll take you home."

"No!"

 _They're going in circles._

He lowered his voice significantly, hoping it will bring hers down too. "I'll give _it_ to you..."

Her glossy eyes brighten in prospect.

"In one condition." he added the but.

The prospect shattered and he can clearly see it cracking into a million pieces right before him. "You asshole! No! No!" she palmed her fists on the wooden table.

"C'mon, Erin! Call your lawyer to drop this whole divorce thing and give me another chance. Please.."

"You're blackmailing me!"

"Erin."

If she put it that way.

But he wouldn't call it blackmailing, it's more like negotiating.

"I won't - " and she dropped her head into her folded arms.

 _Nothing._

He resisted the strong urge to bang his own head into the wooden back of the booth. At this rate, they're never going to leave this damn place.

He looked over at her. Her caramel hair, much longer than he remembered, was everywhere, sprawling across her arms and over the rather sticky surface of the table. If she wasn't so drunk, she wouldn't even have the thought to lean over it.

In this position, her white sweater has ridden up, exposing a few inches of her bare back. The lovely spot between the hem and the waistband of her jeans. He wanted to look away but something about that strip of skin - which looked particularly vulnerable in the low yellow light of the bar - brought back unwelcome images in his mind.

 _Kissing his way down her spine while she squirmed and laughed beneath him._

 _Resting his hand at the dip of her back, laced by her wedding dress, as they danced._

 _The rainbow shaped arc of her silhouette as the priest finally allowed him to kiss her._

He felt as though he ought to do something vaguely comforting now. Resisting the unwise urge to touch the bare skin in front of him, he rested his hand against the soft wool of her sweater instead. She stiffened under his fingers but doesn't pull away. Again, he's grateful for that.

She's not drinking anymore and no one's looking at them, so, he sighed, relaxing very slightly and reached past her for the remnants of her drink.

He definitely needs-

 _Gin?_

When did she started drinking gin?

Vodka has always been her choice of poison.

Alcohol is still alcohol. It'll still work it's sole purpose.

She's quiet now and after long minutes, he's left to wonder if she has fallen asleep.

He touched her shoulder.

No response.

"Erin?"

She ignored him.

He moved some of her hair away from her face to try to see if she has fallen asleep. Failed when she drew away from him. At least she's awake.

It's so like her, either completely together or completely falling apart. Now, he feels like he has just that window of opportunity to get them both out of here.

She seems compliant enough now.

"Erin, just come outside with me. Ok? Let's just get some air."

To his surprise she nodded at his request and with the same slow and jerky movements, she began to gather herself to her feet. He wondered if he should feel guilty that a lie was what got her to moving or not since lies are what brought them here in the first place.

He draped her coat over her shoulders and kept an arm around her waist as they walked out. At first, it was to prevent her from doing anything irrational as they leave. But then, the gentle gesture, one that she used to appreciate, became more of support than anything, as she grew less steady by the second.

She's still mumbling something and he leaned closer to hear it.

"You know this is all your fault. If you'd just kept it in your pants, we wouldn't be here."

 _They actually eventually would._

"Erin."

He's having trouble holding her up since her coat is damp like she've dipped it in the shower and she's now increasingly just deadweight against him. "It's Christmas, Erin. We shouldn't be fighting."

She made a soft snorting noise, disgusted. "Puh-lease. Stop pretending like you care that it's Christmas! You didn't care last year!"

It hit him hard, an arrow between his eyes. He deserved it. But before he could press on it, she slipped through his fingers. And now, she's on her knees in the parking lot, back arching with what looked to be painful spasms.

He dropped to his haunches beside her and pulled her long wavy hair away from her face immediately, a fraction of a second too late.

Her clothes were spattered with the awful contents, even her coat. Her eyes glassy and miserable and she coughed after each spew. Throat burning.

He has never been good at resisting her when she's vulnerable and one thing that he've learned, unfortunately, was that it's just another form of avoidance.

 _That's what they've been doing for the majority of their marriage._

She's too tired, too drunk or both to argue any further so he loaded her into his car, turned up the heat because she's shivering. The enclosed space was claustrophobic with exhaust and the sour stench of vomit.

 _It's Christmas, Jay! We love Christmas!_

They used to. It was their holiday.

It was too dark to see anything in the car until the lights of a passing car illuminated her face. Only then that he saw the emptiness in her eyes.

He did this to her.

 _Well, he's a contributing factor._

 **X X X**

She was quiet when they got inside his apartment. He didn't really have much choice than to bring her here, she wouldn't tell him where she've been living. And besides he just lives a few blocks away.

The quietness will be short lived because now, she've turned to him with that peculiar look she used so often, half stammering. He's never been too sure whether she does it on purpose and tonight's encounter doesn't seem to be the appropriate time to ask.

"A BMW, a nice neighbourhood and a fancy apartment. So, sleeping with the lady boss does have it's perks."

"I'm not sleeping with Brianna, Erin."

He's not, though Brianna would really like that.

Brianna is the only person in Chicago who still liked him and at that time, he was in desperate need for a job. He had nothing when she kicked him out.

The morning after the incident, he returned for his his things to only find them lying incoherently in the front lawn; she've thrown them out into the pouring rain.

Not only did Brianna gave him a job, the job came with benefits a desperate man just cannot refuse. A car, a fully furnished apartment, great insurance, a security detail position that pays well.

 _How can he say no?_

Besides he had worked for her before at the pot dispensary, part time. Now, it's just full time.

She snorted and rolled her eye, "You don't have to convince me, Jay. We're not married anymore. I've only cared what you did when we were married. You can sleep with half of Chicago for all I care."

They're still married.

 _Divorce is a process._

He lowers his head. He's not sleeping with Brianna, though he knows nothing he will say would convince Erin otherwise. This feeling that he's feeling, of being trapped in her sights is oh-so familiar to him, "Erin."

She covered her face with her hands, turning away and despite the still present store of frustration inside of him he feels a spear of guilt stabbing into his heart as he observed her shaking shoulders.

She used to cover her face with her hands whenever she cries. It took quite the while before she could cry openly. When they were first married, he would occasionally pry her hands away from her face, lacing her fingers with his, preventing her from hiding. It's something he feels differently, something he can't ever do now. It's just too intimate.

 _And who's fault is that?_

 _Is it possible that after ten plus long years he actually knows her less?_

He stood there, wondering what he should do. He used to be more certain of the right choices to make. The right thing to do. All that certainty has faded now and he wonders if he should just throw in the towel and hand _it_ back to her. So, they could at least try and be civil to one another for a change.

 _But he just can't do it._

Struck with the thought that he can't really do anything for her, not the _thing_ she so deeply wants, he went across the hall to turn on the shower, waiting preferably long moments for the water to warm up.

"Get in. You'll feel better."

She turned around at his voice, eyes widen and bloodshot; broken capillaries. She's a mess and where he expects he should feel tenderness, he can only access guilt and a strong sense of responsibility for what he's done. Cautiously he approached her and she covers her face again.

"Don't talk to me." her voice is muffled behind her hands.

The look in her eyes. He knows that shadow all too well. It's the look of the present that never arrived.

"Erin," this time the sound came up more of an entreaty than he intended, "C'mon. _It's ok_."

Her hands flew away from her face, her eyes redder that before. "If you say that again, Jay, so help me!"

 _Still a sore topic._

He held a hand up, "Calm down. Ok? ... Sorry."

He gestured at her ruined clothes. "Here." he handed her his sweats and a t-shirt, "You need to change."

"Brianna didn't sleep in these, now did she?" she pursed her lips and cocked her head to one side.

For someone who insisted that she doesn't care who if he sleeps with half of the city, she does seem pretty jealous and scrupulous.

"No- I mean I'm not sleeping with her, Erin. Please just get in the shower." he said tiredly.

"Don't tell me what to do!"

He threw his hands in the air in frustration, shaking his head. He can never get her to do anything he wanted. Not even when they were married - _correction_ \- not even when they weren't in the process of a divorce.

 _Fighting, that's what they've always been consistent with._

He saw that her hands are now at the hem of her sweater, clearly preparing to strip.

"What are you doing, Erin?"

She let go of her shirt, "What? I find it hard to believe that you've never seen a girl naked before."

She's back to herself.

Always throwing his mistake right in his face.

He sighed loudly.

She undressed, achingly slow with her back turned to him. He's not too sure if she's doing that on purpose.

 _Privacy._

He realised that each of them are now turned slight away from the other, not like it used to be. One mistake can really change the dynamics of who and what they were to one another.

He used to love to watch her undress after work and she did too.

"I don't feel so good."

"What?" he turned back just in time for her to pitch forward.

 _Shit!_

She blinked awake on his carpet and looked stunned to see his face above hers.

"Jay?" her voice was hoarse and uncertain and he's left to wonder how much of tonight she'll even remember in the morning.

"Hey." he moved some of her hair out of her face, "How do you feel?"

"Awful...like I wanna kill you...for..."

Ok.

 _Well, he asked for it._

That's one way of expressing how she feels.

"I should have cut you off." he shook his head, "C'mon, a shower will help...Slowly." he cautioned her, helping her to her feet. Leaning heavily on him on the way to his bathroom.

"You should have and should not have done a lot of things, Jay." she turned to look up at him, except that was an obvious mistake because she straightens up abruptly. Her flushed face, now drained of all colour.

 _Green._

 _Yup, there it is. She's turned green._

"Erin." he said hastily "Are you-"

 _Yup. She is._

He was interrupted by the first of what he can tell will be a series of violent heaves. He managed to position her over the porcelain toilet just in time, wincing slightly as she hurled.

It's really no surprise that her stomach can hold a surprising amount. But still, she never fails to amaze him. He's not quite sure whether that's a good thing or not.

He mused when he realises she's still not done. Pulling her hair out of the way, he washed a cloth along the back of her neck. She moaned somewhere in between pain and appreciation and when she sat back up, he wiped her face.

If it wasn't for the mere coincidence of them being in the same bar, he's not too sure who'd be the one doing this for her.

"Done?"

She nodded slowly.

"Ok." he flicked a few sticky strands of hair off her face before helping her in the shower. "Be careful." he said, shutting the bathroom door.

His apartment smells better now that her clothes are in the washing machine and the pounding water from the shower is inexplicably soothing, almost as if it's raining down on his skin too.

 _What does he feel?_

Well, he feels like a douche, trash, a lousy husband, an asshole and the list goes beyond infinity. But mostly he feels cold. His clothes are wet and he too reeked of bile.

Maybe a change of clothes will make him feel better but he doubts it. Nothing on the inside or the outside could fix what he's had destroyed.

Changing into dry clothes, figuring it will be a while, he dimmed the lights and drew the curtains waiting for Erin. It's snowing outside and he's taken back to the faint memory of the two of them snuggling on the couch with cups of hot chocolate in their grasps while they watch the first snowfall of the season.

 _Eerie._

The eeriness is too huge of a silence for him to savour. It's one that he hears on a daily basis now. _Loneliness_. No noise. Just him and his television. While most people craves tranquility, he begs for noise, people to talk to.

The only person he still really talks to is Adam and sometimes Kevin at the gym but it's not the same and it's always in secret. Like they're afraid of getting caught sneaking around.

If he could, he'd replace this quiet for Erin's nagging any day.

Speaking of Erin, she's now stumbled out of the shower in a cloud of steam, interrupting his thoughts. And the smell of the vanilla shampoo, one that he bought as a reminder and form of punishment, overpowered his apartment.

He used to love the smell, love burying his face in her wet hair, nibbling at her shower-damp skin.

Taking the towel from her hand, he rubbed it through her hair just like he used to because she hates it when her hair frizzes; muscle memory. If she had any indication of how inappropriate it was, she didn't voice it.

 _She didn't stop him._

This cannot be the end. He knows it can't. There must still be something left in their marriage that's salvageable.

 _Love?_

He still loves her.

She's shivering in her his clothes and he went to turn the heat up.

"I'll sleep on the couch."

 _How many times has he heard that before?_

It was as often as it can be, just as it is now - a pretense. Even though they had a guest bedroom at their house and a fully furnished office for that matter, there's nothing quite like the fuss of an _I'm-sleeping-on-the-couch_ huff. It's the drama that comes after that statement she so exquisitely prefers. He knows this because he knows her.

Flopping on the oversized leather couch that they got on sale and waiting for him to venture after her with a peace offering. Sometimes he'd just sleep there with her, a millimetre away from her stern shoulders as she drifted off. He'd usually wake with her glued to him. Her cold toes mingled with his.

She looked to be somewhere in between defiant and manic at this point, with her hair still wet and uncombed, eyes glassy and he sighed.

"Erin," he ran a weary hand through his hair, "As a Christmas present from me to you, please take the bed. Okay?"

She winced at the word _Christmas_ again and he feels bad that he has to keep reminding her.

"C'mon." he sensed her weakening on her stance. So, he wrapped a hand around her arm, guiding her towards his room.

She laid on her stomach like he remembered she would. Faced pressed into the pillow as always. He sat down next to her for a while, listening to the whistling wind outside.

He considered telling her that his - their nieces and nephews misses her and that she's still very much welcome to see them - she's still family - but he thought otherwise. They've been somewhat civil for most of the night and he doesn't want to ruin their streak.

"Jay?"

He nodded, "Mhmm."

"I feel horrible."

"That's because you drank half of Joe's in one sitting." he chuckled and so did she.

 _They're laughing._

He moved some of her wet hair off the side of her face and rested his hands on her head, tentatively digging his fingers into her scalp like he used to when she had headaches.

Looking at the clock by his nightstand, still massaging her head as her light snores filled his quiet apartment. "Merry Christmas, Erin."

Tiptoeing out to the living room, he gently pulled the door shut, peeking one last time to make sure she's alright.

He sank down on the side of his couch, massaging his aching temples, waiting to feel the relief he seeks for aiding his _wife_ in need, instead of the hollow in his stomach that was carved since that night. But a dilapidated sense crept up his spine instead, that this would be their last _Christmas_ together.

* * *

 _"I'm very sorry."_

"No, I don't understand. She was here." his shaking hands lifted the rumpled sheets.

It was clear as the light of day that no one was under the covers but he was hoping, just hoping that she's playing a cruel joke on him.

"I don't know when she left. I-"

His voice was breathy, panicky, so uncharacteristic to his own ears.

 _Frozen._

Someone else has now taken the phone as a breath came through, "Just get here, Jay."

"Will! What's happened?"

A hefty sigh vibrated in his ears. Will does that when he doesn't know what else to say. "Just get to the hospital, Jay. Hurry!"

And that's what he did. With his keys and phone stuffed into his pockets, he grabbed his coat and rushed out. Not caring that he's still in his sleeping attire.

The roads were slick with frost, eerie and empty as ever.

Of course, it's Christmas morning.

 _It's Christmas, Jay! We love Christmas!_

He was on the couch the entire time. _How can he not hear her leave?_

The distance between the bedroom and the living room and the front doors isn't a mile long for him not to hear her.

How can he not-

 _Hurry!_

Calm, he's calm or at least he thinks he's calm. He's a detective - _was_ a detective for a third of his life, was a soldier for a quarter and now a security detail. He's calm and collect as can be where others don't have the capacity to.

He knows control.

His hands doesn't shake and his voice wouldn't crack. He's calm.

 _She's ok. She has to be ok._

Images flashed before his eyes, reflecting on the icy windshield right in front of him.

 _Erin grinning up at him as she looked at the cup of coffee he had placed on her desk._

 _Erin standing over the incubator, pale and weak against the gown, begging him to stop._

 _Erin screaming and thrusting him out of the door, one regretful rainy Chicago night._

He blinked hard against the haze but she's still there, even bigger and brighter, still moving before his eyes.

 _Erin linking her arm through his as they happily step out of the District._

 _Erin flailing, hitting her fists hard against his chest, sobbing at what he had done._

 _Erin laughing and blushing as he admired her from all possible angles._

 _Erin stretching out her legs on their leather couch after one of their arguments, eyes drifting close._

He calm. She's ok. _He's calm, right?_

He forced his foot to ease off the gas before his car could spin out of control.

 _This is what calm is, right?_

Will was already there, waiting outside by the automatic doors. His eyes were dark and pained like he've seen too much for one night and Jay swallowed hard.

 _It's Christmas._

There's a wreath of flowers on the exterior wall with a few strands of tinsel hanging loosely, a small Christmas tree on the far end.

 _One more holiday ruined._

"Is she -"

A flash of her appeared, smiling widely with those deep dimples that he loves so much, and just like that she disappeared.

* * *

 ** _Hey guys! What do you think? Interested? Confused? Craving for answers. Don't you worry. Answers will be given one by one in the coming chapters. So, bare with me! Trust me, you will know!_**

 _ **As you can see, I made a few tweaks in this** universe **like his mother is still alive and he has sisters. Just a few changes here and there in this story. I truly hope you guys enjoyed. Oh and this is a Jay-centric fanfiction.**_

 ** _Got any questions?_**

 ** _Let me know your thoughts!_**


	2. Chapter 2 : Puzzle With a Piece Missing

**Christmas**

 **-:- Puzzle With a Piece Missing -:-**

* * *

Beyond the white, plain hospital corridors, horrors and miracles exists side-by-side. _Reality_. A hospital; an essential institution that promotes healing and recovery.

People fail to accept and understand the interiors of the facility, on all the departments that perform both miracles and horrors out of fear of acknowledgement because ignorance is bliss. Fully unaware of the struggles and hardships until they experience it themselves.

The atmosphere and the aroma, dull and stale, are indications that the contributions of a hospital are more than just saving lives. The air - often reeling of strong chemicals and hand sanitisers - permeates anxiety, hopelessness and grimly thoughts. The medical personnel - quick on their heels, pushing wheelchair and beds - bespoke dedication, fight and promises.

But beyond the shut doors, closed curtains and sliding doors, people still choose to fear acknowledgement. And beyond that, right now, a life was taken for one to live.

 _"Is she-"_

"She's alive."

 _Oh, thank goodness!_

Words cannot describe the sense of embellishment he's feeling at this exact moment. It is the same sense he felt four years ago - solace - and coincidentally - not really - at the same exact place. But four years ago didn't end so well, didn't end as they had planned for months, and it just created a larger hole in their broken hearts.

 _She's alive._

Relief flooded him, warmth from head to toes. A wondrous sensation at knowing that fact. He feels like he's about to cry.

 _She's alive._

But he knows she being alive doesn't mean anything because it doesn't mean she's unhurt and untouched. He still doesn't know what happened to her.

"Is she - conscious?"

His brother's face was set. All business. He knows that look. He knows him too well. He has given him that look one too many times. It's the look of all seriousness, no time for joking around, no time for walking around the bushes. _Straightforward_. It's the same face he gave him when he had to explain to him and their younger sister why their father won't ever be coming back.

That he's in a better place.

"They're trying to warm her now. It isn't clear how long she was outside. EMT brought her - hypothermic. Her core temperature dropped significantly. Jay -"

He looked up at the hand on his shoulder. Over his coat, his brother's fingertips felt icy, much like his. So, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked up at him.

"Why was she wearing your clothes, Jay? I mean she had your coat on. The one mom got you for Christmas years back. And the beanie Kathleen gave you. Were you together last night?"

Mutely, he nodded his head.

He more than just saw her tonight. He drank with. He kind of spoke with her. He definitely argued with her. He drove her to his apartment where they argued some more. He put her to sleep after she emptied half of Joe's into his porcelain toilet and now they're here in a hospital.

He can still hear her voice, thick with tears.

 _I want it back. I want it back. You took it from me!_

 _It's_ all he's got too.

 _Don't you think I know it's Christmas?_

It's a holiday of memories.

 _I want to go home._

She just wanted to go back _home_.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently. It felt like a dead weight on his shoulder. He could barely even feel it though. _Numb_. It an amazement that he's still even standing. Nothing can actually be felt. Both physically and mentally, he's numb, which could seriously be a vantage point since he's afraid.

"You should prepare yourself."

 _Prepare yourself._

It's something he had definitely said to families of victims when he was a cop back in the day. Before he was forced to quit in which and in a way, he and they have come to an agreed consensus.

 _Prepare yourself._

Now that it was said _to_ him and not _by_ him, he cringed at the two not so innocent words. _Prepare yourself._ It's like a very unpleasant seize fire, violent and forceful. He never noticed or realised how hollow it had sounded. _Prepare yourself._ It doesn't make him feel any better or have any sense of consolation but, instead, a billion times worse.

 _Prepare yourself._

 _How can anyone prepare for something like this?_

"She was very lucky that someone found her. There's still going to be a significant recovery period. There's a long road ahead, Jay...She sustained some craniofacial trauma. They called in neurology and they're bringing her up for a CT in a few minutes."

He swallowed the information Will had just babbled past him.

 _Someone found her._ _Significant recovery period._ _Long road ahead._ _Craniofacial trauma._

 _How badly was she hurt?_

"Where, ahh, where did..." he tried forming his question but somehow the words just jumbled up somewhere in the back of his throat, stuck. He couldn't ask it. He doesn't even want to think about it.

"At a parking lot of a bar called Joe's. I think the owner found her."

 _Joe's._

 _What the hell was she doing there?_

That was where they were a mere five hours ago. She was fine five hours ago, well, not exactly very much fine but _fine enough_ to continue to argue with him, fine enough without any _craniofacial trauma._ Craniofacial trauma!

 _Joe's._

He knew he saw her Audi parked there, idle and innocent. Erin must have taken a cab to her car at Joe's but why couldn't she have just done that it the morning. He would've just driven her there.

 _Joe's._

Two doctors walked past him, clucking over coffee cups, laughing without a care in the world. _Of course, it's Christmas!_ Everything about Christmas just seemed to irk him all over again. Every little thing got to him all over again. The timbre of their jolly voices, the lights, the really faint and annoying carol playing in the nurses' station. Even the fragrant smell of the coffee brought his blood to a boil.

"How badly..."

He couldn't ask it.

"She's going to make it, Jay."

He shook his head. That's not an answer. _She's going to make it_ is not definitive, not concrete enough. It's not something he can build false hope around. He wants facts, not comfort. "I still don't understand what happened."

"Neither do we, Jay." Will sighed, "Some of the details will have to wait for when she wakes up. I think, when they found her, she, she didn't have a wallet or any identification on her."

"They took her stuff?"

He knows for a fact that Erin took her bag with her when she sneaked out. It wasn't by the coffee table like he had left it.

Will nodded.

So, it was a mugging gone horribly and terribly wrong.

"Jay." Will placed a hand on his arm, "She's here now. She's in the-"

Jay shook him off, swallowing hard. He's not ready for more platitudes. He doesn't want to hear it. He has heard enough of those words four years ago. _Its a repeat._ History is repeating itself and this time, it's his _wife's_ turn.

 _His wife._

He knows she's in the best place she can be. He knows they're giving her the best care. He knows they'll do all that they can. _He knows._ But what he doesn't know and would like to know for certain is whether she'll really actually make it, whether this was their breaking point.

 _What if she doesn't make it?_

Will hadn't given him a straight answer so far.

The uncertainty is killing him.

"Did you -"

"I was the on-call doctor. They pulled me out once I...recognised her."

 _Recognised her._

It wasn't the whole truth. A white lie actually. He did recognise her even with all the swelling and the distinctive coat of his mother's crafty work to which Jay never liked but Erin thought it to be cute, was a confirmation that this patient is, in fact, his sister-in-law. Then, he kind of, sort of had the tiniest of freak outs when he acknowledged her face and had to be forced out of the exam room.

There was blood everywhere. Her face had ballooned to a double. Her skin was icy, literally with icicles. Her lips were basically purple. He knows he shouldn't have overreacted since he's a doctor and practically sees this on a daily basis. But it was different, especially when the patient is family.

The patient is no longer a patient. And he no longer is a doctor.

He can't continue on thinking about her face. He needs to think about something else.

"Like I said, the _crime_ was committed-"

"The crime." he repeated the word, only half-believing. _Why?_ He has said it a billion times before. Besides it wasn't like this is the first time Erin had gotten herself hurt in the line of duty. But the thing is tonight wasn't committed in the line of duty. Tonight, she was just an ordinary civilian. _The crime_. It's sounded so revolting now his wife's involved.

 _The crime._

"The details of the _attack_ aren't clear but-"

 _Attack_. He can tell Will regretted the lone word as soon as it escaped. He cringed a sorry look but he continued on, which he didn't mind since he needed his brain to busy itself, so he wouldn't have to think about the maniac who had _attacked_ his wife.

"She was in the parking lot. Her car wasn't there and if it was parked-"

"It was there. I think so. I'm pretty sure I saw it." he said quickly, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket.

Somehow he has forgotten all that he has learnt in the Academy, and every knowledge and experiences he has received as a fellow officer for the past decade plus had just flew out the window. He can't seem to think like a cop right now.

 _He's a husband._

Just throwing on the first thing he could find as he left, he's now basically in his pyjamas. There's a stray thread sticking out of the edge of his sleeve now. Absentmindedly he thought about all the times he had ruined the stitching of his coats because he just couldn't help but pull at them. If Erin was here, she would be displeased.

"Then, it seems likely that it was stolen."

"A carjacking."

Will nodded.

"And her - her injuries..."

"There's, um, there's significant trauma to her face and head, like I said. She was probably struck with something. And her ribs are fractured."

Jay swallowed hard, staying in control. He can take this. He knows he can. It's just facts. He should be able to differentiate himself. It's just another _victim_. Any other victim. He stayed calm even when his heart was pounding right out of his chest. "Anything else?"

"Trauma to her right side. It was treated in triage but there may need to be some, _ahh_ , other considerations down the line. _Grafting_ , for instance. Our first concern was to warm her, particularly her extremities and-"

Shaking his head, "Wait, wait, wait a minute..." he held out his hand in sheer shock. He didn't hear him right. _Grafting?_ He couldn't have heard him right. "Did you just - _grafting_?" he exhaled.

Will nodded.

She was burnt.

His brother was just giving him bad news after bad news. It just seemed to be getting worse with every new piece of information he's got.

"What..."

"It's unclear..."

Jay stared at him and Will fumbled with his glasses, removing them and polishing them on the hem of his sweater - an irk of his indicating that he's nervous or was hiding something.

That was how he had found out that it was Will and not his sisters, who had ratted him out to their mother that he had gone off in the middle of the night to the skatepark to hang out with kids he shouldn't have associated in the first place. But that was then. He was twelve and Will was sixteen and had only wanted what's best for him, for him to be safe.

He's doing the same right now.

"Will."

He sighed deeply, "Based on the pattern of her injuries, it seems as though she may have been _dragged_ for a short while as the car -"

 _Oh god!_

He couldn't hear the rest of it. Shaking his head, he felt his brother's hand on his shoulders again as he tried to catch his breath. _Dragged_. She was _dragged_. He can't hear anything but the faint buzzing in his ears while his stomach twisted and turned over and over again. _Dragged_. He tried to fight the nausea. _Dragged_.

 _She was dragged._

He didn't even notice her leave.

"What else?"

"A broken arm." Will looked over Jay's right shoulder.

"Where is she?"

Will told him the room, then continued in medical jargon, somehow wanting a sense of relief from the thousands of dollars in debt of medical knowledge, trying to buy time, stalling for something - he doesn't know what. "She was triaged but she'll need surgery for some of her injuries, as we discussed. Some minor stitching to her mouth, her face..."

He needs to go see her for himself.

"We got you here as soon as we could, Jay. You're still listed in her emergency contact." he said, quick on his heels, following after Jay to the exam room.

Of course, he is. _He's her husband_. But they're in the process of a divorce and now, he doesn't know whether that's something good. Maybe she had forgotten to change it. Maybe she didn't. Maybe it's a sign that they ought to be together. _Forever_.

"Jay, wait."

After years of visiting victims and taking their statements in this very hospital, he's no stranger to the white halls and eerie archway.

He strode with purpose, having to lift one leg after the other with immense effort, and stopped with equal purpose in front of the window, drawing sharp and painful breaths.

 _Erin._

She looks so icy pale, almost blending neatly with the sheets beneath her, except for the patches of bruising and the dark brown streaks of her hair. By the colour, he can tell that it's damp. Her forest eyes are closed. Gone are her beautiful dimples and a tube is now protruding from her bloodless lips.

He tried his hardest to draw a happy memory of her. But he can't. Most of their last few years living together was a blur of sorrow, tears, fights and silence; all compiled together in a hurry.

Maybe he should just think of the last time he saw her.

The last he saw her was when he closed the door to his bedroom in order to make sure she was okay. And she was. She was sleeping so soundly, so peacefully, or so he had thought she was, that he didn't want to wake her, that he didn't make a single sound and went straight to the couch and drifted off.

He didn't even hear her leave.

 _What was she wearing?_

For some reason, it seemed terribly important for him to picture what she was wearing.

 _His clothes._

His sweatpants, the ones she always used to borrow. Cotton and soft against her skin, that was why she liked it so much. And an old t-shirt. Definitely oversized for her, but it was comfortable and it smelt like him as she put it so eloquently.

When they used to live together in that now occupant-less house, she would sometimes sleep in his old shirts and sometimes - for _special occasions_ as she called it - in those ridiculously expensive silky smooth pyjamas that he would teased her about but secretly loved.

Her skin is blue against the metallic foil that was wrapped tightly around her frail body, warming her up to a normal temperature. Jagged stripes of red and green tracked her progress on the many monitors.

From his basic medical knowledge and what he have observed over the years, it doesn't look too good. He don't really know but it just looks too messy. All over the place.

Red, green, white and even silver, it's all the beautiful colours of twinkling lights and decorative tinsels.

 _Christmas._

The large clock on the wall that says _4:56_ , reminded him that it's still Christmas morning after all.

* * *

 ** _Four Years Before_**

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

 _Christmas_

Silver tinsel, glittery, glistening red and green globes, shiny lights and the large Christmas tree sitting oh-so beautifully in the corner seemed to have enhanced the decadent aroma in his mother's house. The pine needles from the Christmas tree, peppermint from the tea, oranges and cloves from the pomanders, cinnamon from the buns, and the heavenly scent of baked dough filled his every scenes. For as long as he could remember, December has always been the same. A tradition. A holiday that's to be anticipated. A holiday that's meant to be spent with the ones you love.

Christmas has always been the same.

 _Well, almost that is._

This year, the holidays isn't the same as it has been. Not anymore at least. Something was missing. Lacking of joy. He don't think anything will ever be the _same_ again.

 _Empty. Hollow. Lost._

He found her on the last step of the staircase, her fingers wrapped around a very lumpy red mug. One of the grandchildren must have made it and he was fairly certain that it was his nephew - Emmet - since he too was gifted one this morning.

Speaking of this morning, he hadn't spoken to her since breakfast. She was preoccupied with his mother, sisters and the kids, helping around the house, busying herself to the best of her ability since Erin and anything that has to do with culinary do not go hand-in-hand. If he hadn't known her any better, he'd think she was creating a distraction for herself to avoid bringing it up.

And that's exactly what she was doing for the entire day. _Distracting herself._ But now that everything was done and completed for the day, she was left with nothing else but her dangerous thoughts. There wasn't anything to distract her now.

No one has brought it up and he's thankful of his family's careful consideration because he, himself, don't think he can handle any of it today. It was literally the elephant in the room for days now.

He's barely hanging onto his senses without even talking about it and he knows Erin feels the same. But then again, she has always been much tougher than him, much more in control with her emotions than him. She's had more experience than him in that department.

She glanced up at his footsteps and her shadowed eyes pierced a hole right through his heart.

"It's Christmas in a few hours, Er." he eased down beside her, softening his voice. "It'll always be our holiday."

Christmas hasn't always been her favourite holiday, not until she got to spend it with his family that is.

As a child and up until Voight took her in, she had never celebrated the season of giving. They were poor and her mother had more _pressing things_ to tend to other than sharing the love and joy of such joyous holiday with her children.

Then, the Voights came along and gave her the best Christmas present a fifteen year old could ever ask for. _Family_. From that point on, she never thought Christmas could get any better but it did when their families collided.

She stared into her lumpy cup.

"Hot chocolate?"

She shrugged.

He took the mug from her, sipping the warm liquid. It's cold now and a little too sweet for his liking. He's certain that it's a batch made by his little sister, Louisa.

She has hardly had any, he finally noticed. She hadn't eaten much at dinner as well and he didn't voice it out at the table in fear that she would turn on him and scream. She would and she have had multiple of times.

It's easy to slip and dump a more-than-half-empty plate past his mother on Christmas Eve to the kitchen. The long table filled with abundantly loud children and grandchildren, chatting as they go. His nieces and nephews always seemed to be louder than ever. Practically screaming their words out.

But it's calmer now. The kids are all tucked in, asleep, while the others are dressed for church, watching whatever Christmas movie that was on TV, waiting to head out for the midnight mass.

And they're here - on the steps of the staircase. Away from everybody else.

"Er." he touched her leg.

When she began to speak, it was so quiet that he could hardly even hear her. "It was supposed to be...this Christmas -"

"I know." he sat the mug down on the far end and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into the crook of his shoulder. She doesn't resist but doesn't melt into his embrace either. She was a little tense like she wasn't sure what to do.

For someone as petite as Erin, she fits into him perfectly. Every embrace, every kiss, every snuggle, they fit perfectly like yin and yang.

 _They're meant for each other._ His sisters had said when he brought her to meet his family for the very first time.

 _Soulmates._

He thinks she's holding her breath since he couldn't feel the rise and fall of her breathing.

 _It was supposed to be this Christmas._

 _Oh yes, it was._ Their Christmas gift, as their obstetrician had so delightfully described Erin's due date to be - _25th_ _December_. But they weren't as lucky and never got to unwrap their present.

"Jay-"

"Just give us a minute, Kate." his voice was muffled by the emotions he was trying to swallow.

But Kathleen, his older sister, still hovered by the stairs. "Is she -"

"Kathleen, please."

Nodding, his sister departed. And he certain that she's going back into the living room, whispering to send another sibling in her place.

Erin was still stiff against him and he took the opportunity to debate his options; to take her upstairs for some privacy or to ride out the moment since at least she's letting him hold her. Chances are, which he knows is very likely, this moment will be lost if they stand up.

 _And it did._

The moment was lost when she pulled back.

Swiping a hand across her face as she took a deep and much needed breath. He observed, she hadn't even shed a tear. "I'm okay."

He kissed her forehead. "I know."

But he's not too sure. She's not talking about it anymore. Not for four months now. Not since the funeral.

" _He_ was supposed to be here, Jay."

There were no words that could say. _Pained_. "Erin -"

"You guys ready?"

"Damn it, Kate -" he jerked his chin towards the interruption but this time, it was Louisa. Her blue eyes wide; startled by his outburst.

Just when Erin was about to open up, his sister had to ruin their moment. Even if it's the tiniest amount of words, at least she's acknowledging it out loud, at least she's talking again.

"Mom said to tell you that we're leaving in ten minutes."

"Thank you, Louisa." he said tiredly.

He waited until she was out of view to turn his attention back to his wife. "Hey, we don't have to go, you know."

"Yea, but I want to." her voice was slightly muffled in her own hands as she cupped her chin, elbows propped on her knees. His hands hovered near her but he knows better than to argue. It's Christmas after all.

She got up slowly from the stairs. "I'll go get ready."

"Erin."

But his earnest request bounced off her retreating back as she climbed up the stairs.

"I'll be down in ten minutes."

They assembled by the foot of the stairs, waiting for one after the other like they always have every year for as long as he can remember. Growing up, they weren't the wealthiest of families but his mother always made sure to keep traditions alive. He don't recall a year where there weren't any presents under the tree. He doesn't understand why she was so persistent on traditions but he's grateful that she's invested it on him.

 _Erin, we don't have to go to my mom's this year. We could stay home instead._

When he had suggested that two months ago, she looked at him like he had slapped her; horrified. Sometimes he thinks that she's more invested in all these silly Halstead traditions than he ever was. Maybe that's because she never got to experience it as a child.

 _Yes, she wants to come._

He remembered saying to his mother on the phone.

 _Yes, she's fine._

He said to Will this morning when he noticed her scrubbing the dishes more vigorously than she should.

 _Yes, Kathleen. She's eating._

He said to his elder sister a few days ago when she had pointed out the obvious, that she've lost weight.

 _C'mere! Come to Auntie Erin!_

She cradled the two twin boys, bouncing them on either arms.

 _Can Rosie and I braid your hair?_

She allowed them to pull and yank at her long hair and raid her suitcase for presents.

 _No, thanks._

She had said when they tried and failed miserably to stuff her plate with food.

 _Yes, I'm just tired._

She would lay beside him in his childhood bed. Two pairs of legs stretched out to the end and underneath was the same plaid sheets Jay had slept on for years. He rested a tentative hand on her thigh while she pretended to be asleep.

 _No, she doesn't want breakfast._

He said to his mother so Erin would sleep in a little longer.

 _Yes, I'd love to._

She was happy to help the children draw and colour Christmas pictures, hang ornaments, decorate Christmas cookies.

 _Keeping busy_.

That's what his mother called it behind her back and out of her reach. Erin doesn't quite want to call it that. Those two innocent words has a profound effect on her.

 _Keeping busy._

"Jay?"

"Yeah."

His mother looked up at him, patting his arm. Her warm and dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "You two don't have to go, you know." she whispered.

"Oh, I know." he rubbed a weary hand through his hair. "Erin wants to."

 _Keeping busy._

"Jay, if there's anything we can do for her..."

"No, you're - what you're doing is fine."

Of course, it is. And they are anything but fine.

"I think she just wants things to be normal again." he said carefully. He knows for a fact that he does too. Though he knows, they won't ever be.

"Ready to go!" The cheerful voice was inexplicably, Erin's. She's strutting carefully down the staircase with one hand resting delicately against the banister and with a smile that shows her intricate deep dimples.

Radiant in a dark blue dress, the colour made her skin look clearer, her eyes greener and her hair glossier. She smiled brilliantly at everyone else.

 _Keeping busy._

He saw his mother draw back slightly, exchanging glances with Kathleen.

It's the kind of feeling that makes him wince for his wife, knowing how much she loves his family and how, despite both of his sisters' attachment to her and despite Erin's intense desire to please his mother, she can never quite fit in with them as well as she would like to.

 _Keeping busy._

He knows his mother would prefer to see her in tears and even to hear her refusing to take part in any of this seemingly endless family holiday traditions. But he knows Erin wouldn't do that, she's not one to disappoint, she's not one to cry in front of an audience. _Clinginess_. She craves validation and approval. Maybe it has something to do with her mommy and daddy issues. And lack there of when she was growing up.

 _Keeping busy._

So, she would prefer to cover her flushed cheeks with makeup and her pain with a carefully composed smile. This mask was her way of sparing all of them the trouble of tears. He knows this because he has spent enough time alone with her, coaxing her to let it all out, that it's okay to cry.

"You look beautiful, Erin." his mother bestowed a smile on her. But he can practically read the message behind his mother's glance.

 _She's sweet but just a little too distant, Jay, cold even._

He glared at his mother.

 _You know how she was raised, mom._

Erin's eyes met his, anxious for approval and he nodded.

 _You know my mother loves you, Er._

She's still looking at him and there's something in her eyes. A desperate need for assertion - clinginess - something that saddens him deeply. But before he could say anything, one of his nieces slipped her small hand into Erin's. "Can I ride with you, Auntie Erin?"

"Of course, Addison."

"Erin." he called after her but she was already out of the door, and out to the white Christmas.

* * *

"Jay?"

"Yeah." he rested his hand against the cool glass for just a second. She was as still as a statue. So pale. So peaceful. "Can I-"

"Yeah, but you need to put on a sterile robe first." Will said, motioning for one of the ER nurses to bring him one.

 _Ready to go!_

Draped in sterile and anything but ready, he walked slowly through the door.

"Erin?"

She doesn't respond.

 _Of course, she doesn't!_

He shook his head at his own stupidity. She's unconscious. Of course she's not going to respond.

There were no evidence or inkling that she could hear him. He looked over at his brother who had now reached for the chart at the foot of her bed, wanting the security of medical jargon. He wished he could actually read those papers because he now needed to do anything else other than staring at her swollen and slack face.

Up close her injuries looked much much worse than they did from behind the window. They've covered her up to her neck, and he isn't able to see her arm or her damaged right side that Will had so hesitantly described.

 _Dragged._

From a foot away, her face is a smeared rainbow. Red, white, blue, purple, brown, green; there's basically every colour of the rainbow on her face alone.

There's blood at her hairline, dark red swelling around one eye and blue bruising on the base of her neck.

 _He's a..._ he doesn't know what he is anymore. _A husband?_

He's her husband. But he doesn't want to be a husband right now, he wants to be calm and collected like a detective would be in situations like this. A husband, that's what he is right now, is a completely fucking useless addition to this room because all he could do was stare. Stare at his unrecognisable wife.

He ought to move closer, he ought to whisper reassurances, he ought to tell her that he loves her.

He ought to do a lot of things. But he's paralyzed a foot away. A lump of a man, watching the mechanical rise and fall of her silver-covered chest.

His lips parted almost of their own volition. The words that were forced between them was not what he had expected, "I'm sorry."

Her eyes fluttered.

"Erin?"

His feet suddenly remembered how to move and he strode closer, leaning over and cupping her face as carefully as he can. Mindful of the swelling.

Her mouth moved slightly, straining around the tubes.

"Don't try to talk." his thumbs drew lines on her temples, trying to calm her in advance of what he knows and have seen one too many times at hospitals - the horrors of waking up intubated.

She blinked confusion at him, eyes wide, her gaze darting around the room.

"You're okay." he leaned closer as he sense her panic. Will pushed him aside as multiple figures in scrubs surrounded her. "Erin. Erin, look at me. You're in the hospital. You're going to be fine. You've been intubated. Don't try to talk." Will said calmly.

Jay's not quite sure how aware she is of her surroundings right now, but she came alive as they pull the tubes from her throat. Arching from the bed, coughing and sputtering everywhere.

He lost his grip on her and two nurses had to push past him to hold her down. She thrashed, swinging her head back and forth until someone immobilised that too.

Getting out of the way since he's a useless addition, he stood aside. Letting the professionals work away. Hating himself for his own impotence and the terror in her eyes frightens him.

The nurse handed him a bowl of ice chips, "For her throat." she added. He glared at her in spite of the fact that he hadn't thought to do it himself. It was the nurse who was soothing her, brushing her hair back, explaining where she was.

He's just in too much in shock to say anything really.

"Erin." he moved closer, dragging a lone plastic chair from the corner up to her side. "Er, can you hear me?"

She was trying to mouth something but her voice was an even more cracked and hoarse whisper. But it surely was louder than silence.

He looked at her, at the temporary wrap on her arm, the bruising around her neck and the swelling on her face. She looks even smaller now. Like she've shrunk.

She coughed and he can tell from her expression - even under the bruises, even under the stoicism - that it definitely hurts. He remembered Will mentioning something about stitches in her mouth.

"Here." he fetched an ice chip from the bowl, then slipped it carefully between her lips. The first one fell and he brushed it away. The second one made it in. She sucked slowly, raspily.

Tentatively, he reached towards where her hand would be under the warming blanket, but then only realised he never asked which arm was broken.

Her breaths were scratchy and shallow; he doesn't like the sound of it. "Slow breaths, Er." he brushed his fingers against her temple again. It was one of the least bruised portions of her face. "Nice and slow breaths."

Her eyes found his and he has that feeling he's had so many times before, that she's desperately seeking something he can't or won't give her. _It_.

This time he thinks he would like to but he fears it's a little too late.

"Erin-"

The team rushed back in, Will patting his arm, encouraging him to his feet.

"Jay, let them work. You can wait outside. Let them finish the assessment. I'll be with you shortly."

"Can I just-"

"No. Give them some room, Jay."

He looked at Erin. She still hasn't said anything, but her eyes are darting around the room again; frantically.

He stood over her, resting a hand at the top of the bed, near her head. There were blood crusted in her hair. Matted in between the strands. "I'll be back in a few minutes." his voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

She reached out then, clutching weakly at his wrist with what must be her good hand, cracked lips struggling to form a word.

"Hey, it's all right, Er. They need to check you out and then I'm coming back. You're going to be fine."

She doesn't let go, wouldn't, still trying to speak. He leaned closer to try to make out the sounds.

"Jack," she breathed. Her voice was so faint he could hardly hear it, cracking on that one word. "Is he - is he okay?"

He closed his eyes, welcoming this poignant pain like an old friend. The room was dead silent, the air was too thick to breathe. "Yeah." he murmured. He opened his eyes again to see his lie reflected in the forest of her eyes. A tear fell. "He's okay. He's okay, Erin."


	3. Chapter 3 : Adrift and at Peace

**Christmas**

 **-:- Adrift and at Peace -:-**

* * *

 _Recovery_. The length of recovery is always determined by the extent of the injuries. And it's not always successful. _Healing_. No matter how the diligent at transcending livelihoods for the betterment is, some wounds may never fully heal.

 _There will be a long and painful road ahead._

One doctor might say while another might have expressed it in another manner.

 _Don't let her get too attached to him. It will just be too painful to let go._

A moment of speaking with her doctors, advising the team in updating him with her every progress since being her family, he cannot be her doctor - damn hospital policy.

Will walked out of the room to his awaiting brother, who had his hands shoved into his pockets, staring down at the linoleum, closing the door behind him with an offensively loud click.

 _CLICK!_

It's Christmas Day and they're once again spending the Season of Giving in grief. Not to be insensitive or anything, it now very well should be called Season of Grieving instead. It has pretty much earned it's title.

 _Recovery_. The only way, might just have to be adjusting to a whole new way of life around the old. Leaving the old life alone, discarded and hidden. Things may have already changed too radically to ever go back to how they were anyway. _Healing_. Life might not even recognise the patterns and habituals anymore. Going back to the way life was in order to recover can't ever be done. Recovery is what the future holds, not the past because once a scar has been etched, a brand new person is born.

Will cleared his throat, steepling his fingers - another nervous tic of his. "Jay, there are two detectives in my office. They want to talk to you."

Two not-so nice and very judgmental detectives, he must add.

"Right now?" he asked. Glancing through the half-drawn shades, wanting to catch a glimpse of his wife, to make sure she's okay. But he couldn't really see her with all the scrub clad figures surrounding her. "What about -"

"She'll be in there for a while, Jay. The doctors are doing their job. They will take care of her."

"Can't it wait?"

He doesn't want to leave Erin.

He never intended to. It was a mistake, one regretful misfortune.

 _Detectives._

He's definitely not in the mood to be criticised by some overworked smug detectives. He knows what they are planning on doing to him, questioning him like he's some criminal.

 _Been there, done that_.

He _was_ a detective, so he knows the process.

The spouse is always deemed the number one suspect in crimes involving the other spouse.

 _Suspect number one_ , that's who he is right now.

The person of interest in the attack of his wife.

"I've tried, umm, they really want to speak with you right away."

Though he have tried to convince the detectives that Jay needed to be with his critical wife at the moment, they too were very persistent in their demands, which was to speak with Jay in order to catch the son of a bitch who'd almost killed one of their own.

They were forthcoming, and not in a nice way. _Not at all_. They were rude, tired and aggressive. Probably of the fact that they are working on a holiday - Christmas. Just like he is but he doesn't mind.

Erin's much more important.

"Ok." he nodded. "They're investigating her, uh -" he broke off, mouth still hanging open, not sure how to finish that sentence.

 _...her assault?_

 _...her violent attack?_

 _...her near death experience?_

"Right." Will gestured for him to follow. "They're investigating."

They walked a short distance to an office that had his brother's name and title on the glass door.

 _Will Halstead, M.D._

There were two of them, just as Will had said, in plainclothes, both much larger than him, both he've never seen before. He knows he hasn't seen them before because he has always been good with faces.

The suits they wore breed no hidden secret to their built and he can clearly see their holsters underneath the flaps of their jacket.

 _Oh, how he wish he could have his gun back._

He remembered the night, over ten months ago, when he willing handed in his badge and gun to his Captain in the 87th. He was obviously confused, nonetheless, about his actions but at that time that was how it's supposed to be.

It was obviously wrong of him to allow someone to insidiously talk him into quitting his job. But what's a tiny loss if Erin's heart is broken because of him?

Walking into his brother's office with him right by his side, he looked to see the smaller of the two detectives, holding a pad and a pen; noting the fact that he's left handed, the larger one, who had a ruddy complexion and sharp eyes, looked him up and down, studying him, before holding out a hand.

"Javier Esposito, and this is my partner, Kevin Ryan. We've been assigned to investigate the incident on Detective Lindsay, who was discovered at Locust Street in a parking lot this morning."

 _The incident._

 _Locust Street._

 _Detective Lindsay._

 _Investigate._

 _Discover._

 _Parking lot._

The language was so passive, so aggressive, so general. _Distant and_ _dissociative_. It shouldn't bother him, it shouldn't be shattering his soul, but hearing it from the receiver end - not the end he's used to - did shatter him. He knows how this was supposed to be handled, but only on the giver side. Being on this foreign spot is somewhat different. Shamefully, he wants to run to the bathroom and break.

 _Where's the sympathy?_

They're talking about his _wife_ for Christ's sake!

 _Where's the 'I'm sorry about your wife' speech?_

He has forgotten that he's being treated as a suspect right now.

The tone, the silence, the necessity of speaking to him right away, he ought to remember that he's the person of interest right now.

He's been in this predicament many many times before, as the investigator that is, so he knows where these men are coming from.

 _Dissociate and distance._

He had to learn that the hard way.

That's why he doesn't, not often, get too invested in his cases - back when he was a cop - since had only drove him to be too attached, which had only driven him to insanity.

 _Did he too sound like that back in the day?_

Cold and inconsiderate.

"Jay Halstead." he said, though he knows it was certainly unnecessary.

"I'll leave you alone." Will said, "Jay?"

He looked up at his brother.

"Just call if you need anything. I'll be right outside."

He nodded and turned his attention back to the two detectives, who had now gestured for him to sit. He did as he was told, and sat on the stiff two-seater couch along the wall. Still remaining silent.

"How is she doing?" the shorter one - Ryan - asked abruptly.

"She's, uh, she was in critical condition but -" he broke off, _but_ _what?_ He doesn't even know. He doesn't know anything else other than that, that she was in critical condition, was beaten to a pulp, as evident on her face.

No one really knows anything yet anyway. Will will tell him right away.

But she was talking, even if it's just for a while, she remembered, she said _his_ name, which she hadn't in four years, which meant that she's alright, to an extent. _She's alright_. She has to be alright. She has to pull through so that he can beg for her forgiveness once again, just one more time. Over and over and over again. "She's being evaluated right now." he added.

 _Silence._

They just watched him, not speaking, not making any notes on their tiny issued notepad, not even nodding at what he had just informed them.

 _She's ok._

Shifting slightly - uncomfortable - his fingers twitched awkwardly on his lap, feeling the heat of the third degree. Reminding himself to keep his cool and not let their mere eloquence to get to him because he can't provoke their investigation by proving himself capable of such heinous crime.

"Mr. Halstead. Jay - can I call you Jay?"

"Yes." he said politely. He figured he'll desperately need every point he could get to be off their suspect list.

"Jay, I heard you _were_ a detective for the Homicide Division at the 87th, why _'were'_?"

Shifting on his seat, "I quit." he said.

He did quit. Ten months ago.

"Why? Does it have anything to do with you and Detective Lindsay separating?"

He stopped, brows knitting together. He doesn't need to answer that question. He doesn't have time to be playing icebreaker or twenty questions with these fools. It has nothing to do with what has happened to Erin.

Besides he doubts they don't know. Gossip in the police force spreads fast like wildfire.

"The reason as to why I quit has noting to do with what happened to my wife. So, if you don't mind, I'd like for you to start asking the right questions."

"You don't make the calls here, Jay." Detective Esposito made short work of his rights, ticking them off on thick fingers. Jay noticed the broad gold band on the fourth finger of his left hand.

"Yes. I know that but-"

"But.." he interrupted, "you don't get to ask the questions here, Jay. You're no detective...not anymore."

 _He quit._

He's demeaning him. He knows that. If only he could...no, he ought to stay calm.

 _Deep breaths._

He has to play his role in all this. He can't be who he wants to be - calm and in control, like a detective. He needs to be the grieving _husband_.

 _A husband._

Her husband.

Clenching his jaws, he nodded. "I want to help you catch whoever did this to..."

 _...my wife._

"Then we want the same thing."

Looking up at the men, "I need to - I should be down there. With her." The words tumbled out before he could censor himself. "I should..." he trailed off.

"This won't take long then." They both smiled at him, predatory and creepy smiles, and his stomach made an empty lurch. He nodded, as ready as he can be.

 _He's ready._

"So, Jay, you want to tell me where you were last night?"

He took a deep breath. He answered.

 _At Joe's._

They asked him again.

 _After work, he went to Joe's where he frequents occasionally and last night, he just happens to see Erin there._

 _Purely coincidental._

He answered again.

 _After work, he went to Joe's where he frequents occasionally and last night, he just happens to see Erin there, having little too much to drink. So he drove her to his place to sleep it off since she wouldn't or couldn't - he don't know which one - tell him where she's living._

The back of his neck started to sweat. They pace about. He checked his watch about a dozen times. He probably looks suspicious but at this point, he's tired of this endless questioning and he doesn't really care that they think of him as the suspect anymore. Not at all because he knows he's innocent. He didn't do this to Erin.

He could never.

Looking around the room, there was a framed picture on Will's desk of their entire family at Christmas, five years ago. He remembered it to be taken exactly five years ago because it was the last Christmas where he saw Erin smile like that, where she was so genuinely happy.

A real smile. With her intricate dimples. Not the weird and forced smile that only did more harm than good.

"So, can someone else account for your whereabouts between eleven and four?"

"No." he gritted his teeth. "As I've said - like I said, we went to bed at around one. I slept on the couch. The hospital called at around half past four and woke me up."

"And she was gone."

"Yes."

"And you didn't hear her get up."

"No."

"Or leave."

"No."

"The door. Her moving around."

"No. No."

"You got a big place, Jay? A mansion? Soundproof walls?"

He propped his head in his fists. This conversation already feels endless. "No."

The detective was waiting for something.

"It's just a one bedroom apartment in Old Town."

"So, your wife gets up in the middle of the night and leaves your one bedroom apartment, where you said you've been sleeping on the couch, out in the living room, a few feet from the front door, and you didn't hear anything."

Now as he heard it out loud and in that way, it sure sounds weak and ridiculous.

"Yes."

"Must've been tired."

He didn't answer.

He was tired and still is. The dispensary had a lot of _goods_ that needed security yesterday.

 _Work!_

Which reminds him, he needs to call Brianna after this interrogation and ask for a few days of leave.

"Why don't you walk me through the previous night."

 _For the fourth time!_

 _So, this is how it feels like to be treated like a suspect?_

He's tired.

No wonder people falsely confess to crimes they didn't committed.

"I saw her at the bar I go to sometimes. It wasn't planned or anything. Strictly coincidental." he quickly added, "We had a few drinks, and we left at around midnight. I don't know. I'm not exactly sure of the time."

"Who else was with you at the bar?"

"No one - I mean there were other people there." he amended. "But we were sitting alone."

"Why?"

He doesn't know how to answer that.

 _It's Christmas._ That's what they do in Christmas. They always drink together in silence.

"You said you haven't seen your wife in months."

He nodded.

"You two are getting a divorce and couples who are divorcing don't usually talk to one another, let alone agree to a sleepover. So, why'd she agree to go back to your place?"

He shrugged. _Too tired to care? Too_ _drunk to care? Too tired and too drunk to care and argue?_ He doesn't really know. He's been asking himself the same question all night. Being on the edge, wondering when she'll push him away but she never did.

Maybe just like him, she needed to be with someone who understood the pain of the holidays.

 _It's Christmas, Jay! We love Christmas!_

"So, she's drinking, you're fighting, you -"

"I never said we were fighting!" he bolstered, slamming his fists on the sofa.

 _You're blackmailing me!_

 _Don't you say it, Jay! Don't you dare! You know!_

 _I want it back, Jay! You took it from me!_

"Whoa, whoa. Now..." he held up a large hand, dramatically, "Let's not get excited here. You've got a real temper, huh? How does your wife feel about that?"

 _Well, she'd say at least she knew it meant he cared._

"You get along well, huh? You and your wife. For a couple that's getting a divorce?"

"We get along fine."

They get along fine _enough_ , considering she did get a little violent with him at the deposition when he claimed to not have _it_.

"So if I asked your brother out there," he pointed towards the door where Will said he'd be waiting, "friends, colleagues, they'd say you two get along great? BFFs?"

"Where is this going?" he cursed at his sharp tone when he saw the smaller of the two men scribbling something in his pad.

"Someone beat the hell out of your wife on Christmas morning. Left her for dead in a parking lot at the bar where you both were having drinks. You live just blocks away from the scene. That sound like something a stranger would do?"

"How the hell should I know what kind of person would do something like this?"

They were silent, glaring intently at him. "I guess that's the question, isn't it, Jay."

He took a deep, steady breath. "Can we please wrap this up? I'd really like to be there when they finish evaluating her."

"You ever hit your wife?"

"Of course not." he cringed, taken aback by their blatant question. Looking at the detectives as if they're insane for asking such question.

"You sound pretty sure."

That's because he is.

He shook his head, exhaling hard. Knowing that there are no right answers here, he opt to keep his mouth shut.

"Never got physical? Not even once?"

 _'Jay? What are you doing? No!' Her panicky voice, crouching low on the staircase, clenching the accent of the banister, holding on so tight that her knuckles turned pale._

 _Peeling her fingers loose was the hardest part; she went limp and stopped fighting him before they reached the door. It was as simple as gripping her wrists in one of his hands, flinging the door open with the other, pushing her over the threshold and out into the pouring rain. Slamming the door in her face as she sobbed._

"Never." he shook at the memory.

"Christmas is a stressful time. As you should know, you were once a cop right. Lots of victims come in here. A lot of traumas."

He nodded mutely.

"Lots of injuries from fights?"

He nodded again.

"Gonna need for you to say 'yes' or 'no'. Speak up, Jay."

Glaring blankly at him, "Yes." he said tiredly.

But he's not a cop any more.

"Why is that?"

 _Why is what?_

 _Why people fight in Christmas?_

 _How the hell should he know?_

He wanted so desperately to hiss but chose not to. A wise decision. "Holidays can be stressful for some people, I guess."

"For you too?"

"I like Christmas."

At least he used to.

 _They used to._

* * *

 ** _Five Years Before_**

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

"Merry Christmas!" Erin chimed, lifting her glass in the fourth toast of the evening. The flickering firelights caught all the colours in her caramel blossom hair and the warmth of the pine-infused home accentuated the atonement.

"Merry Christmas." he echoed, clinking his glass lightly against hers as she swirled the red liquid, giving her rosy cheek a light peck.

"Is not Christmas." Adam slurred, rolling his eyes. As usual, he had started the party way before he had even arrived to the actual party. And Jay was certain of that because he arrived chatting too endlessly. Something he does when he's borderline tipsy.

"You know what I mean." Erin laughed and tossed a candy cane in his direction. "It's the Christmas season. It's pre-Christmas. If I had it my way, I'd definitely make Christmas last a whole month. A whole month of celebration, good food and good company." she beamed, eyes twinkling in delight.

 _Oh, she had already tried to make Christmas a month long statutory holiday, trying to convince the mayor of Chicago by writing a three page letter of the magic of the holiday._

It's ridiculous but, what can he say, he finds her determination and dedication cute.

 _Precious._

"If she had her way, other things would last a lot longer too, right, Jay?"

"Adam! Ugh!" she threw a cushion at his smirking face. It's typical of him to be making inappropriate jokes, especially when he's past drunk.

Filter, he has none. Good thing it's only the three of them now.

Adam caught the cushion as it thumped at his chest and threw it back at her. Reaching out, Jay deflected it before it could even touch her. "Cut it out, Ruzek."

"Can't a guy have fun on Christmas?"

Shaking his head, "Not when there's a very breakable vase a few feet away." he informed.

A vase that his mother had gifted them as a housewarming present. A vase that his mother will definitely notice missing. A vase that's too tasteful for their possession.

"She threw it first." Adam crossed his arms over his chest, slumping onto the couch.

"Well, she has better aim than you." he shook his head at his best friend. "Now, behave."

"What's with all the rules, Nancy Drew?" But Adam's tone held no malice and was well wishing when he propped his feet on the coffee table.

 _Make yourself at home._

Their house was like Adam's second home. Sadly, to their, more like Erin's dismay, he'd convened quite a chunk of his time at their place.

He doesn't really mind since he don't get to hang out with his best friend as much anymore. Not like he used to when all he sees at the 21st was his miserable scruffy beard. Now that he's working homicide at 87th, they're on different schedules.

Jay ignored him and just leaned back against the soft cushions on the couch. He's warm with buttered rum and red wine, twinkling lights, delicious food and good company. Erin snuggled closer to him, brushing her cheek against his chest and he rubbed the sleeve of her white sweater.

 _Well, great company._

It might be old fashioned - most likely - but he can't suppress a certain King-like satisfaction to be cuddling with his beautiful wife in their beautifully decorated citadel, a fresh log in the fireplace and an elegant Christmas tree, casting flickering red and green lights on their faces.

They only need one more thing to complete the picture for a perfect _family_ but there's no need to rush, there will be time for that.

 _There's always time._

Everyone who knows them knows that Christmas is their holiday. A holiday that accounts for celebration because everything's better with a little party and well, alcohol.

It's what they do every year. A pre-Christmas party with friends since they'll be going to his mother's house for Christmas, of course - as they always do.

It's their own tradition to start the season a little early. They savour the decoration of the tree, the careful selection of gifts. Tonight was the pre-Christmas celebration at the their house, but it's late now and party has long ended. Everyone but Adam has already left.

 _Like always._

"Hey Adam, weren't you supposed to bring that girl...what was her name?"

That blonde detective from Frauds.

Crystal?

Candice?

Caroline?

"Chelsea? he shrugged. "She wasn't the one."

"The one?" he asked as Erin squeaked, "When did you start thinking about _marriage_?" She pronounced the last word with exaggerated horror.

 _Not again!_

He ruined any chances he's had with Kim a long time ago because now, she's married to Roman - _yes, Sean Roman of all people_ \- and living in sunny Southern California.

They're probably down at the beach, the Pacific Ocean, surfing. Enjoying a sunny Christmas.

"Hardly." Adam snorted. "More like the one to share a lovely homemade, pre-Christmas party with my very dearest friends." he gleamed.

"Homemade?" Erin sat up, Jay's hand trailed down to her lower back as she rose.

"What, you didn't cook all this?" Adam gasped, gesturing at the generous plethora of food spread on the table with mock surprise. "Jay, did you know your wife didn't cook all this?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I guess you think you're too pretty to cook." Adam waggled a friendly eyebrow.

"Fine." she shrugged, "I'll cook next time. You can enjoy my specialty - Fruity Pebbles and -" she turned to Jay. "Sweetie, do we have bananas?"

He played along. "I don't think so."

"Fruity Pebbles and milk then."

"Sounds good to me." Adam grinned at both of them. He once lived off of cereals and milk as as broke man. "As long as there's this, whatever this thing is..." he picked the nibble off the serving platter and popped it into his mouth, "Delicious. Then, I'm down." he said with a mouthful.

"Did I try those?" Jay edged into the conversation.

"Here." Erin speared one with a dainty cocktail fork and fed it to him, laughing as he pretended to nibble at her hand. "Jay!"

She was still laughing as they closed the door behind Adam. A gust of cold, icy air whooshed into the warmth of their home as he departed with a wave and a grin, yelling to not miss him too much as he got into a cab. Erin rolled her eyes as they watch the cab whisk away. She'll see him in four days. _Four_ _days!_ Four days without him is just not enough. She's craving for more. Being stuck with a five year old giant is no fun, especially when that giant is glued to her hip 24/7 because now he's her partner. But just like every year, she knows she'll end up missing that obnoxious goofball.

 _Tradition._

It's a vicious cycle.

And just like every year, they keep up with their own tradition of exchanging gifts, which is always on the night before the drive. Tonight, that is. Tonight is the night before Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve Eve, Erin would joke.

With the empty boxes scattered all around the living room and the well-regarded necklace draped over the elegant column of Erin's neck, they stood in front of a large window with the lamps dimmed, looking out at the snow-dusted street. Taking the peaceful night in as they enjoyed the silence and the thumping of each other's hearts.

Everything came together on nights like these, as if the city, itself, is presenting a scene in a storybook holiday. _A perfect white Christmas._ Not only were they peering out at a fairytale, everything smelt better too, like they were at a bakery. A faint whiff of sugar cookies ambrosial, even though they haven't baked. Also, accompanied with crisp pine of the tree and the sweet tang of champagne.

Erin twined her arms around his neck, kissing him lightly. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Er."

"Honey." she leaned back, her eyes bright. "I have one more thing for you."

"Er, you've already given me enough."

A new pair of fishing rod and reel, so that he could go fishing with his brother (and a promise to not complain when he show her his catches), wireless earphones for when he's at the gym (because those wired ones were driving him insane as they always only seem to end up tangling and he was just too cheap to purchase one for himself), an impossibly soft jacket (because it's time that he has got another one, so that the old can finally be donated to Goodwill).

"No, this is...different."

 _Different?_

Her hesitant stammer as she looked down at her hands was adorable. He smiled at her. "Ok."

"Well, it's, uh, it's...not a thing, exactly. It's something I want to tell you. Ok. So..." she drew in a deep breath. "Here it goes...I-I'm ready."

He widened his eyes, almost afraid to believe he'd heard her correctly. "You - what? Are you sure?"

 _She's ready!_

"I'm sure. I'm positive. I'm ready, Jay."

 _She's ready!_

A grin spread across his face. He kissed her deeply with more passion than he has ever felt, tasting coffee and gingerbread. Wrapping her in his arms, her hair tickled his nose, she smelt delicious. _Vanilla_. He gripped her shoulders, holding her away for a moment as he stared into her ever bright forest eyes. There were tears in them and maybe in his too.

 _She's ready!_

"That's the best Christmas present I've ever gotten." he whispered and yanked her back against him.

 _She's ready!_

* * *

"You got any kids, Jay?"

He paused. The fluorescent lighting over his head buzzed faintly. _Loudly._ Too loudly actually. He wasn't sure whether it was really due to the ceiling lights because his ears were too ringing. He stayed silent, listening to the sound.

 _Does he have kids?_

 _How does he answer that?_

 _Does he have kids?_

 _Does what happened considers him having a child?_

 _Don't let her get too attached to him. It will just be too painful to let go._

He have never been asked that question before, so he's torn on what the answer is.

 _Had a child?_

"Not a complicated question, now is it, Jay?"

 _Don't let her get too attached to him. It will just be too painful to let go._

 _Maybe for some people._

"Let me guess. You got a couple of 'em she doesn't know about? Is that it? Or, oh, yea, maybe...maybe she did herself a favour and found out who you really are and that's why the two of you are getting a divorce. She got smart. That's it, isn't it, Jay? She found your dirty little secret. You got caught." he sneakered.

Jay gritted his teeth. This, demeaning his character, was nothing personal, he knows that. They had to try to rile him up for character assessment, to see whether he has a temper, to assess his weakness, to pinpoint his tics, but, regardless, he could still feel his heart pounding vigorously in his chest. The detective's tactics were definitely working. He has succeeded in getting under his skin.

They don't know anything about him. They've just met him. Just like how he've just met them

"No." he said evenly, forcing his voice to remain low. "We don't have any children."

 _They don't. Not exactly._

The door swung open. "Sorry to interrupt." A breath of relief welcomed his brother's familiar voice. _Thank goodness!_ Will might have just saved him. "Jay, they're going to start stitching her up now, if you'd want to be there..."

"Yes, I do." _Does he really?_ But he stood up. "If we can continue this, Detective-"

"-Esposito. And yes, we can and we will continue this. We're not going anywhere."

Jay forced a polite nod as he walked towards the doors. Though he very much wanted to slap the detective in the face for the way he had talked to him, he suppressed the urge, for it will end poorly. The act of being a good _'husband'_ was a flop, he doesn't think he was too convincing.

They definitely weren't buying it.

"Will." he drew in a shaky breath as they descended the stairs. "I just got a taste of how it feels to be a suspect. They think I did this to her. I can never. I..."

 _A taste of his own medicine._

Will frowned. "Yea...I know. We all know that. But, you know, they're just covering all possibilities. Most ..."

 _He knows. He was police._

But before he could say anything further, they were already by Erin's door. Will pulled back, patting his arm briefly. "You tell her we're all pulling for her, ok?...Umm, I got a hold of Voight. He's still in Texas. He can't get a flight back to Chicago for another two days."

 _Christmas._

It's virtually impossible to get a last minute flight and since it's peak season - Christmas - it's even more worthless trying. Voight must be in Texas because that's where Olive and his grandson are living now. She had moved back in with her parents when Justin died.

 _Right, Voight._

He had kind of forgotten that he would have to face Voight's wrath again, which was much sooner that he had anticipated.

Taking a deep breath, he should be able to do this on his own. He's her husband for crying out loud. _For better_ _or for worse._ He made her a promise, that he'll be by her side. But then, he also broke his other promise. A part of him wished that his brother would cross the threshold with him. _Together._ Maybe even hold his hand, like he had on his first day of kindergarten.

The room felt, in a way, austere and overcrowded all at once, both hot and cold. He approached her slowly, mindful of the squeaks his shoes made.

"Hey, Er. How are you feeling?"

 _What a dumb question!_

It's stupid, unfathomably so. He's embarrassed for asking and she didn't answer. But she seemed much more alert now, straining with one eye to look at him.

Half of her face was bandaged with white gauze and streaks of yellowish-brown stained it, from what he assumed is the ointment they had used to clean up the wound. He can't decide if this made her look better or worse.

She still looks ever so beautiful.

 _His wife._

The swelling around her eye had affected him the most, hurting in a deeply profound way that he can't quite describe. He have seen enough of these injuries from _victims_ , one too many times; the thought of someone hitting her, _stunned_ , of how she must have closed her eyes, turned her head - he swallowed hard.

 _I wanna go_ home

"Jay." she pronounced his name carefully, hoarsely, reaching for him with her good hand and he laced his fingers through hers, giving it a very light squeeze in acknowledgment.

This was the first in a very long time where she genuinely wanted him to be around, where she didn't push him out of the room, where he didn't see disgust in her eyes, where he didn't hear her curse at him, leaving him to wonder if she'd forgotten what he'd done to her. _Selective amnesia_. Or maybe she's just tired of fighting. Maybe she has forgiven him because life's too uncertain to harbour detestation.

"I'm here. Lie back, Erin. Try to relax."

She was straining to talk to him again. She's insisting to say something. So, he leaned over her.

"...the...car..."

"It's ok." he ran a finger lightly over her forehead, avoiding all the bandages, and bruises, which ends up to be barely an ample amount of skin. "Don't worry about the car." he wondered how much of last night she remembered.

 _Why was she worried about the car?_

"We need to stitch up her mouth now."

It's a female doctor now - Clark, he read off her lab coat. She turned her attention to Erin and repeated herself clearly. _We're going to stitch you up now, ok._ He's not sure she understood, but when Dr. Clark and a blonde nurse touched her jaw, she pulled back.

"Do you want to-" Dr. Clark gestured at him, indicating for him to hold her, calm her down.

But what they don't know is that he's the reason she's not calm, he doesn't calm her, he's the reason as to why she's here.

He moved in closer. Erin gripped his hand anxiously and he squeezed back.

"Erin. Er, look at me." With her good eye - wide with fear - she met his assuring ones. The eye wasn't quite focused, darting around and back at him. "Hey, it's ok. You need stitches in your mouth, Er. You need to try to keep your head still."

Twisting away, she opened her mouth, seemingly about to say something but nothing voiced.

"Can you hold her down?"

 _No!_

But he can't. He can't do that to her. Pinning her down, weak and incapable...just the thought brought tears to his eyes. _No, he can't!_

He couldn't bring himself to restrain her, so he took the coward's way out. Stepping back, he allowed two nurses to trammel her head while they numb the area. He winced when she did, loudly, that had to hurt. And when she still pulled at their restraining hands, they injected something into her IV. Her head went slack again.

 _Erin, I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry._

 _Recovery and healing._

As Will had said there's going to be a significant recovery period and that there's a long road head. _For whom? Was he talking about her? Or was he talking about them?_

He doesn't know if he can do this _again_. He doesn't know if he can stay for this _again_. He wants to but it's just so hard to see her like this, in so much agony and grief. He has been here before and it just crumbled them into a billion pieces. Drifting further apart in calculated silence as they mourn by not speaking.

This is just the beginning.

The long road ahead had just started while the other hadn't even ended.

Each new step comes just after the other, a never ending pain. So, he knows that this is going to take a while. That the painstaking stitches - she had barely even moved and there wasn't any sign she had felt it - are just the new beginning.

He hasn't even seen the other damage, injuries yet - the part that needed grafting.

 _Dragged._

Numbly, he watched them work. In and out, over and through. Erin's face held no emotion.

"All done. Great work."

He approached her slowly, shamefully.

"Where, where are we?" she whispered, blinking back into that half-alert state as her dazed eye searched the ample white. Her voice was thick around the stitches in her mouth.

"You're in the hospital, Erin." he leaned over her, "You're in the hospital and you're safe now."

Confusion was evident in the undamaged, the dwindle part of her face. "No, but, I, you -" she broke off, struggling to form a word. "What..." she trailed off.

 _What happened?_

"What do you remember?"

"I...I'm not sure." her mouth twitched to a frown. Her lower lip was swelling where they have just stitched.

"That's okay, Erin." he patted her hand gently. Remembering the sentence he would have said to any other victim. "It will come back. Just -"

"Where are we?"

"In the hospital, Er." Carefully, he stroked the unbloodied portion of her hair. "We're in the hospital. You had a...you had an accident, but you're going to be fine."

"What happened?"

 _He don't know._

He'd like the answer to that question too.

"Erin." he cupped her hand between both of his. "I want you to try to rest. Just try to rest, ok."

"Where-" but when she attempted to turn to her side, pain flashed across the un-bandaged part of her face and he hastened to move her back to her original position.

"Try to lie still, Er." he kept one hand on her good arm, applying the lightest pressure he can. She was silent but her gaze didn't leave his until her eyes flutter shut once more.

 _What does she remember?_

It doesn't seem like she remembered being attacked.

He brushed off Dr. Clark's reassurances that her confusion is normal after sedation. He just nodded at her, muttering a _thank you_ before rushing out of the room. He needs air, needs to think, needs to be out of the room. Because it just brought get too many painful memories. Memories they had promised to never talk about. For her sake.

She's asleep. She won't know.

Pulling out his phone, he scrolled absentmindedly along his contacts, noting the numerous missed calls from his boss, Brianna, and Miles, the guy he works security with. He doesn't mind a distraction right now but he's in no condition to talk about this. He's afraid he's going to cry.

Pacing - three steps here, four steps there - to distract his rampant mind.

Maybe he should call his mother.

Maybe he should call Adam.

On his third rap past her room, he turned a corner and his eyes fell on a familiar set of narrow shoulders. Dr. Natalie Manning, Will's girlfriend, caught his glare and he can practically see the growing punctuation etched on her blank face.

"Hey." she sounded surprised to see him. _Of course! What's he doing here, right!_

They haven't seen each other for over ten months now. Shame and guilt took over, convincing him that he doesn't deserve family and friends. He has run off to be by himself. _Alone._

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I work here."

He didn't mean it in that way.

 _Shouldn't she be with Owen?_

She's always with her son in Christmas.

 _Family._

Dating a Halstead means making a commitment to the entire Halstead clan. His brother-in-laws had gone through it. Erin too. And Natalie as well when Will brought her to meet his extended family.

She's basically his sister. But he haven't spoken to her since he shut everyone out.

"It's Christmas."

"Right. Christmas." she said, looking at him and he watched her take in his rumpled appearance. "Wait, I should be the one asking _you_ what you're doing here. So, what are _you_ doing here?"

Will must not have told her yet.

"Will haven't told you?"

"What? No...Something happened." she said slowly after studying his expression. "Something bad."

He thinks she's got it.

"Erin." he whispered and looked down at the shoes he've shoved his feet in in a hurry.

It's the ones he got for his birthday from...he can't remember.

"There were police here. Lots of police. And..."

He looked at the ground. He's not going to cry right now. _Later._ When he's alone.

"Oh my god, Jay."

When he looked up, meeting her eyes, all he could see were pity and ache. He don't think he can bear it any longer.

 _Not again._

"I'm so sorry."

He looked past her. "Me too."

She took a step closer in an attempt for a comforting hug. He really thinks he needs one. _One huge hug._ But he can't do that without bursting into uncontrollably tears.

 _This_. It was achingly familiar, down to her hesitant stance, it was just like before. _Four years ago._ He doesn't move.

 _Don't let her get too attached to him. It will just be too painful to let go._

"Jay." she began but was interrupted by the approach of another doctor, a stocky big figure in pale blue scrubs. He recognised him from Erin room.

"Mr. Halstead, we-"

"Is everything all right?" he interrupted.

"Yes. Umm, I mean, there's no change. I just wanted to - we wanted to give you these."

He lifted an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natalie shift her weight, but made no motion to leave.

"I'm sorry." the doctor said cautiously, extending a closed fist. "Her fingers were swollen, when they, umm, we had to cut these off." And then, he dropped a cascade of alloys into Jay's open hand.

His head buzzed, the hallway seemed to be spinning.

He would know these alloys anywhere. He had given them to her.

 _Will you make me the happiest man and be my wife?_

 _Yes, Jay, yes, I will._

His question. Her answer.

Her rings - the engagement ring and the wedding band.

But he's never seen them like this, ruined. Four jagged half-circles of gold. One sparkling solitaire.

 _What was she doing wearing them?_

He thought she had taken them off for good. He don't recall her wearing them last night.

Closing his fingers over the broken pieces of the rings he had once slid into her delicate finger, he closed his eyes, vowing to slide them back on again.

 _He will. It's_ his promise. _He will._ It's the last thing he'll do. _He will._

 _He's sorry._

But the sharp edges of the broken jewellery cut into his palm and as the piercing pain made its way jaggedly through him, he was once again forced to admit it, that just like these ring - broken forever - represents them and their marriage.

They may very well be forever ridged.

But one thing he's still certain is the love he has for her, his beautiful _wife_.


	4. Chapter 4 : Don't Dream It's Over

**Christmas**

 **-:- Don't Dream It's Over -:-**

* * *

It doesn't matter how tough you are, every trauma leaves a scar. Whether be it salient or not, discernible, ocular, prominent, every trauma leaves nothing but sheer ache.

Trauma follows you at every step of the way. Once discharged, it accompanies you home. Trauma never leaves. It changes lives. It messes everybody up - not just the ones who's been hurt. But perhaps that's the point of trauma.

All the pain and the fear and the agony - every emotion that is feared - maybe going through all of that is what keeps one moving forward; it's what pushes one to heal, to move on. Maybe you have to get a little messed up first, before you can step up to the test.

 _Maybe that's the point of trauma._

To feel. To grow. To heal. To experience. To understand. To better ourselves.

 _Maybe that's the point of trauma._

He was rooted to the ground, hands shadowing his tear stricken face. He was finally by himself. No Will. No Natalie. No doctors and nurses surrounding him, he was alone and out of nowhere, his vision began to cloud with stinking tears, his shoulders shook with each and every agonising wail.

He's finally able to cry.

If crying meant that he isn't a true man inside and out, then so be it.

He doesn't care what people thinks.

It's what he wanted to do the second he saw her this morning.

 _She looked so..._

His wife is fighting for her life and there's nothing he could do to help her. Just like how there wasn't anything that he could do to save his son.

It still stung like it happened yesterday. The ache from where his heart tore into a billion pieces was still raw and new. _Bloody and fresh_. He knows Erin feels the same even if they've never talked about it.

 _She's still hurting._

Her pain is continuing.

Sitting idly on the ground with his hands pressed to his face, he doesn't know what he is doing or what to do now. He've informed Brianna on what's happened to Erin and had asked for a few days off. And of course, she didn't disapprove of his request and have told him to get back to work whenever he can.

He's been questioning himself; _is this appropriate for a divorcing couple to be doing? Should he even be here?_

He's still her husband. And she haven't yet to ask him to leave.

 _For better or for worse_ , he promised to be by her side through every step - good and bad - and he intended to keep his promise forever. For however long it may be.

He doesn't know what he's doing on the floor when there are perfectly still chairs by his side. Maybe he's waiting for his brother, waiting for answers, waiting for Erin to heal, to wake up and tell him who did this to her. But he can't go back in there just yet. He doesn't know anything right now but that, he knows for certain. He can't go back into Erin's room.

It's all too much to swallow all at once.

 _Erin..._

She looks very different and the same all at once.

Both recognisable and unrecognisable.

He just can't look at her without gawking at all the bandages and blood and bruises.

 _He can't._

He's not strong enough. Not like Erin.

He remembered how beautiful she looked at their wedding. All perfectly poised with the dress that took her months to pick out. Though she wanted a dramatic neckline, it wasn't all that sensible for a traditional Catholic wedding since it is what his mother wanted. A church wedding, which Erin never really liked since she wasn't all that religious, but she very much respected his mother and wanted to please her, so she compromised.

And he just loves her even more for that.

"Jay!"

Two very familiar figures approached him. He didn't turn his head to the voice but instead, hastily lowered his head and scrubbed at his eyes with his fists.

The voice that was calling his name was firm and stern. _Angry_. No remorse or empathy.

 _Here it goes again!_

"What the fuck did you do to her?" Antonio demanded. It's evident that it's taking all his might to not beat the crap out of him right now. He can see it by the way his jaws and fists were clenching. _Tight_.

He hadn't seen him in quite some time and he can't say he's very much eager to. The last time he saw him, he was the one who had ended up with a split on his cheek.

 _What did he do to her this time?_

Furious, he was enjoying Christmas morning with his kids and ex-wife until he received a call from Platt, informing him of the misfortune, that he needed to get down to Chicago Med as soon as possible because something has happened to Erin and it definitely didn't look good.

"I didn't do anything."

Jay still refused to look up at them. If it was clear that his eyes were red and puffy - which he knows it was - he didn't made any indication or any initiative in changing his tone. He couldn't look at them, not because he's enraged at the accusation but as a form of shame of what he had done to all the good in his life.

So, instead he looked at Adam, his best friend, for assurance, that at least he believed him. _He didn't do this to Erin._ And the look Adam gave him back indicated that he knows his words to be true. _He never will._

Antonio took a deep breath, "You expect me to believe that? You were last with her and the detectives thinks you did. The two of you were at that bar. A few hours later, she got the hell beaten out of her. If that doesn't sound suspicious to you, then all that pot must have gotten into your brain cells."

Rolling his eyes, he's exhausted of the way everyone's talking to him. He's tired of being treated like a suspect, he knows their strategy and knows why they're doing this but, once in a while, he just wants someone to actually listen and believe his words. He doesn't know how to convince Antonio and the detectives that it wasn't he who had viciously attacked his wife.

"I don't care if you believe me or not. I did not do this to my _wife_ -"

Antonio snorted, almost like he was chuckling. "Oh, she's your _wife_ now."

The shock that crossed his face for a quarter of a second at the blatant coercion from his friend almost pained him. _Almost_. They've known each other the longest, Antonio should've known by now that he'd never hurt Erin.

 _Never._

"How could you think that I'd do that to Erin?!" he allowed his temper to get the better of him. "She was attacked. Carjacked. Someone, no, some _animal_ , made off with her car and left her for dead in the parking lot...I'd never hurt Erin and you know that, Dawson. I love her. I'd never hurt her."

He forced himself to look him in the eyes, his former friend was shaking his head. "Yea. But you did anyway."

* * *

More time had passed and Jay was still rooted on the same spot - on the ground and staring into his palms. Waiting, the doctors and nurses were still doing one of their series of tedious assessments on her. _Poking and prodding._ He checked his watch, it's been over an hour since they went inside.

 _What could have taken the examination so long?_

This might as well be the sixth examination in the span of five hours.

But he's glad, for the most part, that she's unconscious because he can only imagine the pain she must be in. Even with all the cocktails they've given her, she must be aching.

Adam had also slid down the wall alongside him, passing him a cup of coffee from the cafeteria and they sat there in comfortable silence.

They both were still trying to wrap around the fact that Erin's, yet again, in the hospital, going through a time so traumatic again. But this time, they're not sure she's strong enough to get past it, not when she's still not gotten over the first trauma.

Adam had been there for his friends, trying his best to be their anchor. He watched as they grieve, watched as they drifted apart, watched as they stopped talking to one another.

Adam cares about Erin, he loves her too, they all do. Jay knows that Antonio's outburst was out of love for their detective.

Will called his name, snapping him from his thoughts. He's alone again because Adam had to get back to the station. Forcing his feet to move, he caught up to his brother.

"How is she?"

"She's hanging in there. They will need to get a CT before surgery is determined. But before they do that, they need to clean the injury site." he paused, clearing his throat. "It's a...it's going to be difficult, Jay."

 _Difficult._

Looking at him with fear, he wished he didn't know what his brother was talking about.

 _Difficult._

They're going to clean her burn site. The side of her body that's heavily bandaged. The side he hadn't seen.

 _Difficult._

She'll be in so much pain.

 _Difficult._

That's an understatement.

"They'll need your help." Natalie interjected.

"Sure." he said shortly, swallowing hard. _Help? What help can he give Erin?_ He couldn't even help her when Dr. Clark asked him to calm her down. _How on earth is he going to help her now?_

He looked at Natalie as if seeing her for the first time. "You're going to be her doctor?"

"I'm going to assist."

"It's Christmas." he said dumbly, before he can stop himself. "Don't you need to be somewhere?"

Natalie just pressed her lips together. "I'm right where I need to be."

Jay swallowed hard, grateful for the distraction of Will's voice as they walk.

"She was actually very _lucky_." he said and Jay fist a hand in his palm to keep himself from responding.

 _Lucky?_

It doesn't seem like she's lucky.

"If the owner hadn't had gone out for a smoke, probably nobody would've seen her until morning. We could have lost her. You're very lucky, Jay."

 _Lucky._

He was lucky.

But then he saw her pallid and panicked face on the hospital bed. Her eyes were bloodshot, pleading at him.

 _Jay, you have to make them do it...please, Jay, you have to try...Tell Will, please...make him talk to the doctors...Jay!_

He realised how wrong his brother was. She wasn't lucky. He definitely wasn't lucky. They weren't lucky at all.

 _They were never lucky._

Luck have never been on their side.

"She was _dragged_ a short distance and the burns she sustained as a result aren't as severe as the trauma team first thought."

That word again. _Dragged_. He doesn't like it. It threatens to pull him out of his calm and in-control demeanour.

 _Dragged_.

"It could have been much worse."

 _It is much worse_ , he thought.

"I understand." he nodded. He's glad that his brother wasn't treating him with so much caution. They're just having a conversation. "Thanks, Will."

He followed them towards the discrete ICU room, isolated from the rest of the unit. This must be the burn unit. Watching as Will tapped a few buttons, they were let into the threshold of the sterile room.

There were two personnel outside her door, not in white lab coats, but in plainclothes instead. Jay noted their holstered badges and guns.

The woman held out her hand in introduction. The younger man at her side, loaded with bags of what he recognised were for evidence collection, nodded at him.

"I'm Brooke Baker with the police department's forensic unit. This is my partner. We mainly work on sexual assault cases-"

"Was she-"

"There's no indication that she was sexually assaulted." the investigator continued smoothly. "We also work on other assault cases where evidence might be contained on the victim."

"She's in critical condition." he angled his head towards the door. His priority right now is maintaining Erin's comfort and smooth recovery. "Does this need to be done now?...Maintaining sterility..." Will put a hand on his arm but he brushed it off.

"We're well-trained in moving quickly and efficiently and we certainly don't want to aggravate any of her injuries or compromise her recovery. But you have to understand, we have a limited time in which we can collect evidence, Mr. Halstead. This window is crucial in trying to locate your wife's attacker or attackers."

"Jay." Will's voice was close to his ear. "This won't take long and then we'll begin the cleaning process we discussed."

 _What else can he say?_

He followed them inside.

They circle Erin like a weak prey. The male investigator moved first as he started to remove and assemble the bags and kits.

He's reminded, unpleasantly, of the first time he had to put on that stupid yellow hospital gown, cap and suffocating surgical mask, so he could get into the NICU.

 _It was a terrible time._

So dark. So lonely. So scary.

"Is there any chance you'll find something?"

"We're going to do everything we can. I understand she was wearing gloves during the attack, which means that we won't find any DNA under her fingernails. We'll still look, of course."

Erin was still heavily sedated, half-asleep, barely stirring. The prongs in her nose delivering extra oxygen. He looked at the bright numbers on the screens above her bed because he didn't know where else to look.

She had hardly moved as they scan her hair and skin with ultraviolet light, comb for fibers.

He've seen all of this before.

She made a soft noise when they tug a few strands from her roots, but then her face slackened again.

He winced slightly when the investigator clipped her fingernails and her assistant carefully bagged the evidence. Erin has always maintained scrupulously perfect nails - not too short, not too long - and he had always used to tease her about them. The short, blunt nails left behind looked all wrong on her hands.

 _Weird._

"We've kept her clothes as evidence, they're going over them now back at the lab."

"What was she wearing?" he blurted before he could stop himself. Colour raised in his cheeks at his own inanity.

The investigator just looked at him as if it was a perfectly normal question. "Leather boots. Insulated leather gloves. Sweats. A knitted sweater. A black wool coat. The layers were just enough protection from the cold, and we believe it may have actually helped mitigate some of the _trauma_ she sustained."

 _The trauma._

He's grateful she didn't say _dragged_.

But his mind was stuck on the knitted sweater. He doesn't have to see it to recognise it. It will be olive green. It will have a small hole in one of the sleeves.

It will be his. As is most of the clothes she was wearing.

"Some jewellery." she continued, "which I understand was returned to you already."

He had stuffed them into his pocket and now, he could feel the cool metals through his jeans.

 _With this ring I thee wed and with it I bestow all of the treasures of my mind, heart and hands._

"Her clothes were cut off by the triage team when they brought her in." she continued calmly, almost conversationally, as she worked. "We'll go over them for hair and fibres. Maybe we'll even get a partial print, if we're lucky. It's happened before." she looked at Jay, "We'll want to collect some samples from you as well, just to rule anything out."

"Of course."

Beside there will be his shedding and fibres on all the clothes.

She smiled at him as she carefully lifted the swollen fingers of Erin's broken arm. "It's just procedure. You know."

"Yeah, I know."

Something occurred to him. Suddenly, he finally realised, very worried. "They took her bag. Her badge and - what if they-" but he couldn't bring himself to finish.

"There's an officer posted outside her room. Someone will be there around the clock."

He watched as the investigators work with extra care around the heavily bandaged side of her body. He still hadn't seen what's underneath.

"With injuries like your wife's, the typical scenario is that the victim didn't relinquish whatever the perpetrators are attempting to take. Her bag, maybe, or the car, itself, in this case."

"No." he shook his head. "We're - she's a cop. She knows to not - she would've given whatever they wanted. She wouldn't have fought for her bag or her car."

The investigator just nodded. "We'll try to get a statement from her, see if she remembers anything. But her doctor had asked us to wait until her injuries were scanned."

"There might be surgery." he began, just spitting out whatever Will had said to him before. "They may want to operate quickly after the scans."

"It's better if we speak with her before the surgery." Her response was smooth but insistent.

He doesn't have to ask why. He knows why. He has been in her exact position before. Having been there, in the ER, when victims are brought in. He, as a detective, had even ran down the hall with the gurney, desperately barking questions at a badly beaten victim as doctors wheeled them in for emergency surgery. So that if the victim died on the table, they may have something to go with to catch the attacker.

 _Victim._

That's who Erin is now.

 _Victim._

He just realised, all those victims he had chased down on gurneys, that's her.

That's who Erin is right now.

They work efficiently and mindfully, though it had felt longer to him. The murmuring of the investigators to each other, the pull and tick of the wall clock, the hum of the machines. It all felt like hours.

He silently swabbed his own mouth, submitted to having several hairs plucked from his head. He thanked them when they finished, relieved when they finally leave. Anything for more air in this airless room.

Dr. Manning, who had been standing by the head of Erin's bed for the duration of the collection, stroked one hand lightly through her matted hair before turning to Jay.

"Is there...anyone else you want us to call?" she asked. "Her mother?"

He raised a brow at her and she nodded.

Her mother's the last person whose ought to be called. He shook his head. Everyone who needed to be called had already been notified. Voight's on his way. Intelligence had already been here.

But there's one call he needed to make by himself. One more Christmas that needs to be ruined, but he's not ready to make that call yet. "I'll take care of it. Later."

"Jay."

He looked up at Natalie's voice.

"This next part - this can be tough."

"I've been around burn victims, Nat, when I was in the Rangers. I know." he trained his eyes away from all her bandages.

"This isn't some faceless burn victim, and you're not in the Rangers anymore. This is harder."

"It's fine."

The team came in before she could say anything else. He can sense that she's in the mood for an argument.

She gestured to him and after trying for a moment too long to decipher what she wanted, he moved closer to the bed, standing by Erin's head.

"They're going to wake her up now, so they can test the nerve response. Are you ready?"

He nodded. His throat was sandy dry.

The doctors introduced themselves; Westbrook, the burn specialist and Vucevic from infection diseases, both glance at him.

Westbrook nodded at him, one hand on Erin's temporary bandage. "Mr. Halstead, did Dr. Manning explain to you about-"

"Yes."

He didn't want to hear anything more.

"We need you to try to keep her calm."

He fought the urge to scream. To grab the doctor, shake him, scream at him that it's his fault why she's in this position and he's the last person on earth who would be able to keep her calm.

The last time they spoke, he made her cry.

 _Twice._

She's more alert already, looking up at him. But, to be honest, he couldn't read anything from her face anymore. He couldn't tell whether she remembers about their son, whether she knows what he had done, or what had happened to her seven hours prior. _Blank_. Her eyes were like mirrors, he could only see his own pained reflection in her dark irises, nothing else. Nothing at all.

"Erin." he leaned towards her. Natalie nodded encouragingly. "It's okay," he said lamely. Her chin lifted, confusion setting into her dull eyes.

"Get in there, Jay."

He moved closer. "Erin, they need to look at the...your injuries. Just try to relax, and-"

He knew the test was in progress without looking as they touched her from the sound she made. They were holding her almost immobile but her head managed to jerk, choked gasps escaping her throat. _He froze._ She strained at him with her good arm, crying out.

"Get in her face! Talk to her!" The doctor said sharply.

"Erin. Er, you need to try to lie still. Breathe, Erin."

Her face was pure white under all the bruising, her breath came in short spurts. He watched as their gloved hands move in deeper into her wounds and she cried out. His own stomach lurched at the sound.

 _Who said he could do this?_

"Erin, it's okay. Try to lie still-" but her good hand grasped at the stale air, her face contorting in anguish.

He raised his voice. "Can't you give her something more for the pain?"

"We can't increase the morphine. We need her to stay conscious so we can test the nerve response."

 _Right._ Natalie had already explained it all to him.

He've seen burn victims before, been around them, saw the agony they were in when he was in the army and also as a detective. But it's different when he's standing right in front of his wife. Her wide, panicked eyes locked on his.

"Er, hey. You're doing fine. You're doing great." Beads of sweat rolled between his shoulder blades.

She moaned loudly, her cry seized at the end, and he clutched the plastic railing of the bed for strength. "Just breathe in and out. In and out. They're almost done. You can do this, Erin."

Westbrook muttered something to the doctor at his side, who made a note. His fingers poise over her skin again and Jay leaned in closer. Sweat was breaking on her brow as she panted. "It's okay, Erin, it's almost over. Breathe. It's almost over."

 _It's a lie and it sounds like a lie._

A high-pitched sound escaped her and her shoulders arched off the bed for just a second before the doctor pinned her down again.

"You need to try to keep her calm."

 _How?_

 _She's in freaking pain!_

"I'm trying!"

But that has always been his problem. _Isn't it?_ He thinks he's trying. He just _thinks_ he is. Maybe it's never really enough. Maybe to others, it doesn't seem like he is trying.

 _He's trying!_

Her eyes, bruised and blue and shimmering with tears, says otherwise. He swallowed the sour taste of betrayal, listened to her jagged breaths and knew then that he couldn't help her.

He never could.

 _Please, Jay. Please, they have to try. Tell Will, please...make him talk to the doctors...Jay! Please!_

He stepped back, didn't hear any of them calling for him to get in there, to talk to her, to calm her.

The only voice he could hear were her own, the hoarse cry of someone without the strength to scream.

Her shoulders rose from the bed again as she cried out.

"Hold her down!"

His vision tunnelled. He's sorry.

Then someone pushed past him.

"Erin, look at me. You can do this. I know. I know it hurts. But you can do this. You're strong, and you can do this. Just look at me. We're gonna do this together. There you go." The voice was firm, commanding, and compassionate. He didn't have to look at Erin to see if she was responding. The thrashing slowed, the beeping on the monitors started to settle.

Natalie had a surgical towel in one hand, holding Erin's face steady. Her other hand was clamped through hers, her face very close to his wife's.

"Good girl. You can do this. Hold on. Hold onto my hand."

He leaned back against the wall, feeling as if he was floating, watching as Dr. Manning do what he couldn't do.

 _Jay, please don't let them do this. Don't let them take him. Jay!_

He has failed her all over again. He failed her once again.

When they finished, she was pale but conscious. Natalie wiped the sleek moisture from her face with a damp cloth. "You did great. You're a warrior."

She then turned around to him, "They'll take her upstairs for a CT now."

They were looking at him and he realised that they're waiting for him to do something. _What?_ So, he moved closer to her bed.

She looked so exhausted, her undamaged eye drooping close, her good arm limp at her side. "Erin, I-"

All eyes were on him. Suddenly, his neckline felt too tight around his throat.

"I'll see you in a while, Er. I'm so sorry." he whispered.

She never opened her eyes.

He walked out of the room, face hot with shame. He have just proven to be the most pathetic husband in the whole entire world.

A failure.

 _He was trying, wasn't he?_

It's really hard to witness her like that. They don't understand. The doctors sees this on a daily basis. This is his wife. It's different.

He just froze. He couldn't.

"Jay." He bumped right into Nurse Maggie.

He just looked at her, unable to speak. He bet there were tears in his eyes.

"I should say something. I wanna ask if you're ok, but - I don't think - that's the right question." she paused. "Can I do anything? For you?"

He shook his head.

"Do you, uh-" she stopped and he broke into the silence.

"I didn't tell her I love her."

"Oh." She looked somewhat taken aback, "Ok."

"I didn't. Or I couldn't, I don't know. But I didn't."

"Oh, Jay, don't you worry. You can tell her once she done with the scans. You have time."

Time is something everyone wants but can never have. And time has it's ways of showing what truly matters.

 _What truly matters now?_

He shook his head. "No. I could've told her that I love her but I didn't...I don't know why I didn't..."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a candy-striper dressed as an elf. A red belled pointy hat and green curled toe shoes wobbled to the elevators with a sack of what he guessed to be presents for the kids in pediatrics.

 _It's still Christmas Day._

It felt like a lifetime since he got the call.

 _How can it still be Christmas Day?_

* * *

 _ **Ten Years Before**_

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

"So, you actually found someone who's just as deranged about Christmas as you." Adam surveyed the almost-fully decorated bullpen, shaking his head at the utter insanity.

For some reason, this year, Voight had agreed to Erin's months worth of relentless pleas.

 _The bullpen's missing something, don't you think, Voight?_

 _No._

 _I think we should decorate!_

 _No._

 _Voight, just this year, pleaseeeee._

 _No._

 _What's so bad about decorating?_

 _No._

 _That's not even an answer._

 _No._

It was rejection after rejection, no after no, but that obviously didn't stop her. She wouldn't take _no_ for an answer. And just out of the blue, this morning, she brought with her a box of old Christmas decorations.

 _What do you think you're doing, Erin?_

 _C'mon, Hank, get into the Christmas spirit. Just a few decorations here and there. Nothing too over the top._

 _Fine. A few decorations. Must I remind you, Erin, this is a police station, not a mall._

And now they're here, at the station, past the time they were supposed to be off and since no one else cared for Christmas like they do, they opt to decorate the office by themselves and alongside Adam who had reluctantly agreed to assist.

There were wreaths hanging on each and every door, floating candles on all the windowsills, and a small tree laced with silvery garlands that was topped with a delicate porcelain angel.

Jay grinned. "I told you she was a catch."

They had just started dating - _is seeing each other in secret and staying at one another's apartments called dating?_

He doesn't know. But that's what they've been doing a lot lately, ever since Voight gave him _'the talk'_ that Erin's off limits. He doesn't understand what's it to him. Though he get their history, he've never shown any behaviour that would suggest he'd hurt her. Besides, Erin have also expressed that she wasn't ready for anyone else other than Adam knowing about their relationship.

 _Well, Adam might have caught them locking lips in the break room._

"An actual gingerbread house." Adam looked somewhere between captivated and horrified, running one finger along the intricately iced pieces of the tiny picket fence.

"Marry her." he said, deadpan, and Jay grinned.

"Ruzek, it's only been-"

Erin entered back into the pen from a much needed bathroom break before he could finish his sentence. "Hey, be careful." she warned, and Adam snatched his hand back from the crafted house as if he had been burnt.

"Hey, Lindsay, from the looks of this place, your parents must be nuts about Christmas too."

Erin nodded distractedly and Jay slipped an arm through hers, pulling her closer. "Yeah." she murmured. "Nuts."

She've never really talked about her parents, he thought. He have talked about his family and whenever he asks about hers, she gets all worked up about the subject. So, he decided that it'd be a topic for them to discuss once she's ready.

But this could just be the first. All he knows were the basics, that her childhood wasn't all the merry and Voight had taken her in when she was fifteen.

"Where are your folks anyway?"

She shrugged. "Well, I guess in Chicago."

"We are in Chicago." Adam said, furrowing his brow.

"I mean, I don't know...at her house."

"As opposed to..."

Erin looks annoyed now with the ridiculous questions, he can see that she wants go off at Adam, so he just glared at his best friend. Erin's sensitive about her family and Adam's insensitive about practically everything. He looked from one to the other, not sure how best to smooth the situation.

"Oh, c'mon, Mrs. Claus, why the long face?" he grinned saucily at them and Jay gave him a stern look.

"Cut it out, Ruzek."

He cast a sideway glance at Erin, who seemed somewhere between horrified and amused. Adam's his best friend, like a younger brother, and Erin's been patient with his constant innuendo, but he also doesn't want to push his luck - _she's perfect, he thinks she's the one._ And it doesn't make anything better that they all work together.

"Your parents getting back for Christmas?"

"Drop it, Ruzek." Jay muttered, and for once he does.

"So..." he repeated. "I didn't know you're just as much of a Christmas freak like him."

"Nothing freaky about liking Christmas." Jay interrupted, wrapping an arm around Erin. She beamed at him. There was a piece of tinsel on the shoulder of her red sweater; her cheeks were flushed.

"Yea, of course not, but you two take it to a whole other level. It's almost like an obsession."

They went back to her apartment that night, buzzing with plans and gift ideas. He had just invited her to Christmas with his family and she was now terrified since it turns out it's her first time being invited to a big family gathering. But she wasn't freaked out, not initially, when he had asked her. She seemed excited.

 _Really, Jay!_

 _Yes, come with me._

They had stopped by a bookstore - surprisingly there was still one open - looking for a recipe book, so that she could whip a dessert or two for when they visit two weeks from now.

Jay was slightly fretted but he hadn't expressed his concerns at the store and had told Adam to keep his mouth shut since he didn't want to upset her, but, to his knowledge, Erin cannot cook.

Later that evening, he found Erin squinting over the recipe book. Adam's in the living room watching the game, only whisking his feet off the coffee table when Erin stuck her head out of the kitchen.

Now, she's leaning on the counter with a ruffled apron over her jeans, wooden spoon in one hand, smudge of flour on her nose. Altogether very adorable.

"How's it going in here?"

"Not as well as it should." she scowled.

"What are you trying to make?"

"Gingersnaps."

"Ok. That sounds tricky."

"If you can read, you can cook." she countered, still sounding so uncertain of herself.

"I'll help."

They both look at Adam, who had now appeared in the doorway.

"You can cook?"

"Hell no. That's for people who actually like the stuff. But baking - that's different. Baking's not really cooking."

"It isn't?"

He whisked the book from her. "Ok, fine, if you guys must know..." he sighed exasperatedly as if they've been begging him for answers, "I used to bake all the time with my mom. Almost every weekend - A very long time ago." he quickly added.

Together, they actually made gingersnaps. They were delicious, in fact. _Gingery_. Her whole apartment smelled heavenly. Erin bagged a few cooled cookies neatly in a ziplock bag for Adam to take home since, thanks to him, they were edible.

And so, two weeks later, Adam stayed to help them with the cookies and everything baking related. And they had to admit, Adam has true talent.

 _He can bake._

No one would've ever guessed that in a million years.

"We're a pretty good team." Adam observed, passing the boxed sweets to Jay as Erin finished sealing them.

He and Adam loaded the car in the frosty darkness while Erin cleared the dishes, they will be driving to his mother's house in the morning.

Jay sat the baked goods carefully in the backseat so they wouldn't get squashed and they fill the trunk with presents for his nieces and nephews. Erin, ready and armed with a list of names and ages, had helped him select the gifts and had assisted him in packing his bags.

"So, what do you think of _her_?" Jay finally asked, closing the trunk with a firm swing. No need in emphasising on who _her_ really is.

"This isn't the first time I met her, Jay. I work with her too. I see her every single day."

"Well, yea, but this is different. It's not work and we're not at the station. You know what I mean."

Adam nodded.

"So?"

"I like her."

"Good." Jay jabbed at the remote control until the horn sounded, confirming that all the doors were locked. "I like her too."

They hunker down against the unexpected frost. The apartment was heated, but even after fiddling with the furnace, it's not as warm as it should be. Erin bustled to the storage closet, tossing extra quilts at Adam - though an imbecile and she shouldn't really care about him, she couldn't let him drive this late and in such relentless temperature - so he wouldn't freeze to death through the night.

"I lied." Erin whispered late that night, when they were cuddled together in her bedroom. Her cold toes seeking his, under the comforter and he pulled her closer.

"My parents, I mean. I don't really know who or where my dad is...Prison, I think, I guess. I don't know. And my mother, she never cared about Christmas. She actually tried to...once, but it was a disaster. She had other... _things_...to spend on that were more important to her."

Her voice cracked on the last word and her vulnerability was his undoing. He pulled her even closer, until her flannel-clad legs hang between his, murmuring comfort into the warm skin of her neck.

"I didn't mean to lie, Jay. I just didn't want you to know where I came from."

"It doesn't matter." he whispered. "It doesn't matter, Er."

It astonished him that she considered this as lying.

"She just never tried, Jay. It makes me sad. And every year after the holidays, the kids at school would talk about the presents they got for Christmas and I'd be quiet because I never got any..." she paused, drawing a deep breath. He could feel her expanding diaphragm on top of his. "It's, I - I just love Christmas so much."

Vanilla, he noted the tinge fragrance of her hair that was impossibly silky under his fingers. He smoothed his palm over her head, down her neck, rubbing circles on her spine. Eventually, she relaxed against him. "I love Christmas too." he said.

"And I love you."

It was the first time he said it and it, somewhat, slipped out of his mouth. _Quick and soft._ Like a habit.

He pressed his lips to her temple, pondering at the seriousness of the moment, but she has already fallen asleep.

Chuckling, he stroked long hair away from her closed eyes and whispered to her a _Merry Christmas_ before letting himself drift off too.

* * *

"Jay." Nurse Maggie was looking at him, her eyes gentle, but her stance professional. He swallowed when he realised what she's going to say. He have heard it many many times before. "Erin, she's... _Erin_..." she shrugged like that itself was all the reassurance he needs. "She's one helluva fighter, Jay. She's got the best doctors. She'll pull through. I know she will, ok?"

"Yea." he shook his head. If only everyone else knew her like he does, Erin is a fighter without a shadow of doubt but she isn't as strong as she plays out to be.

Nobody knows her like he does.

"Mr. Halstead?" A doctor approached him. He vaguely recognised the doctor from the burn unit.

 _Chan._

 _Chen._

Something like that.

Checking the stitches on his white lab coat, _Cheung_ it read.

Dr. Cheung nodded at Maggie, handing her a file.

 _Erin Lindsay-Halstead_ , it says at the top. He read it again.

 _Erin Lindsay-Halstead_

But there shouldn't be a hyphen there. The hyphen was never formalised, that's not her legal name. She wanted to take his name and she did, seven years ago, keeping her maiden name as her middle name.

 _Erin Lindsay Halstead_

Sometimes detectives at the Department would use both last names to distinguish her from him or sometimes they'd simply stick to _Lindsay_ , but there was never a hyphen. Never.

 _Why do people do that automatically?_

Divide their surnames with a line when there should not have been anything between them in the first place.

He wanted to ask the doctor why had he done that to her name. He considered saying something but chose otherwise because it will only seem like he's the husband who's losing his mind over a minor flaw.

"Mr. Halstead?" Dr. Cheung was now giving him an odd look.

"Yes." He struggled to focus, finally taking his eyes off the folder.

"They're taking her up to radiology now. We just need to confirm, any major surgeries in the last five years?"

 _And there it was._

The question.

Dr. Cheung continued to regard him curiously. Maggie was watching him too, her expression patiently searching.

 _Erin, I'm so sorry._

But he has to tell. The doctors had to know. There's no hiding it anymore.

"A caesarean section." His voice was quiet, his eyes trained on the floor, but he has no doubt they both heard him. "Just over four years ago."

He could sense the nurse's expression change without even looking. Fighting the urge to check, he knows he won't be able to stand the pity in her eyes or anyone's eyes for that matter.

So, he turned around and walked away, heart pounding, before anyone could say anything.

All he could see around him were their eyes, both of them. Jack's barely open blues, a shade just like his. Erin's, haunted with fear and confusion.

 _Erin's eyes..._

They were the only visible part of her face on that melancholy day. The surgical mask that had covered her elegant nose, her expressive mouth, the cap that hid her bright hair. Her eyes were all that he could see, only her forest green irises, but they were yet so expressive. So revelatory, so pained, they were pleading with him.

 _Jay, I need more time._

When he looked away - his eyes that were locked with hers a second prior - all he could think of were _feet_. Her feet. Their son's feet.

Those infinitesimally icy-white paws.

 _Don't let her get too attached to him. It will just be too difficult for her to let go._ \- The doctor had told him.

 _But how can she not?_

 _How can he stop her from getting attached to her own child?_

He couldn't even stop himself.

He treasured every time, every hour, every minute, every second he had been able to stroke them with a gentle and tentative finger.

His feet looked exactly like Erin's. They were tiny - _oh-so very tiny_ \- smaller than the first joint of his finger, but the resemblance was unmistakably true. The toes, the height of the arch, the curve of the heel. He wasn't even sure if she had realised it.

She was staring at him, watching him, waiting. All they did was wait. There wasn't anything that they could do.

Those feet - _her feet_ \- the ones he massaged after a long day at work, buried underneath blankets, tickled as he teased her gently awake.

 _Please, Jay. Please ask them again. Please. Talk to Will. He'll convince the doctors. Please. I'm begging you! Jay! Don't let them take him!_

He felt his hands shake as he stride down the hallway, ignoring anyone's attempt to get his attention. He saw her face once again - slack and sedated and covered in bandages - and somehow, he could still feel her gaze against him even after her eyes had slid shut.

A question, an accusation, it all blended together, piercing at him.

He doesn't know what he's doing or what he's going to do. He doesn't know how to do this again. _He misses him. He loves him._ He can't explain why he simultaneously feels nothing and everything all at once.


	5. Chapter 5 : All I Could Do Was Cry

**Christmas**

 **-:- All I Could Do Was Cry -:-**

* * *

 _Gratitude. Appreciation. Thankfulness. Giving thanks._ No matter what words you use, it all means the same thing; _happiness._

 _Happiness._

We're all supposed to be happy.

 _Happiness._

We're all supposed to find that special someone who can make us happy.

 _Happiness._

We're all supposed to be grateful for friends, family, to be surrounded by people who brings out the best in us or simply be happy to just be alive, whether we like it or not.

 _Happiness._

But maybe we're not supposed to be happy. Maybe the concept of gratitude has nothing to do with joy and ever happiness. Maybe being grateful means recognising what we have for what it is.

Appreciating small victories.

Admiring the struggles it takes to simply be human.

Praising the fact that we're healthy, that our hearts are pumping, that we're breathing.

Maybe we're thankful for the familiar things we know and come to grow accustom to. And maybe we're thankful for all the things we'll never ever know.

 _The colour of his eyes._

Will it be blue?

 _His first word._

Will it be mama or dada?

 _His favourite colour, cartoon, and toy._

At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate.

Brown eyes met his blues. Jay couldn't think. He's so very tired of thinking, thinking about his wife, thinking about the son they had. All he did for the past four years was think. He's tired. _No, he's not tired._ He's sad. He's very sad and he's very tired of that. It's the same soul sucking darkness and sullen sky, that has now become his life, he wakes up to all the damn time.

He's exhausted.

He loves his son so much, unconditionally. _He misses him so much_. It's been four years since he had touched his translucent skin or stroked his tiny tiny feet. He would give up everything and anything to have him back. In a heartbeat.

But he should've known that life has it's own sickening plans.

Today was actually the first time in four years that he had talked about their son - it's a painful memory - that he had acknowledged the fact after some time of make belief. No one had ever asked and he definitely wasn't one to advertise.

What can he say other than there's a reason why he don't ever speak of him.

It's all just so overwhelming, emotions after emotions toppled on top of another.

Feelings that shouldn't be of familiarity just overcame him and he felt a rush of water flood through him.

Her face.

 _How could they do that to her beautiful face?_

Their son.

 _He still doesn't understand why. Why?_

 _Christmas_. He now hates Christmas. For the past four years, Christmas has brought them nothing but pain, nothing but tears, nothing but reminders of the life they could've had with their son.

 _Happiness_.

Christmas is nothing but a reminder of the son.

If only he knew life would be this strenuous.

"No." he finally choked out. He's so angry right now. He had failed his son and now, he's failing his wife. _Again._ "She doesn't deserve this. Why? Why? She's good. She's a good person. Why would they do this to her?" he stared into the nurse's eyes, desperately searching for answers. "Have you seen her face?" he exhaled, appalled by the clear visual of Erin's injured face.

He saw her face.

He saw more than that. He watched her cry out in pain, somehow trying to stop the doctors from touching her injuries, somehow trying to beg for them to stop hurting her.

He can only imagine the damages underneath the bandages.

"I am so sorry, Jay."

He didn't answer. He just punched his fist into the nearest wall. It was as though he was on autopilot, so much so that he didn't even feel any of the intense pain that shot through him the first time he slammed his knuckles into the wall. He didn't feel it the second time either. Nor the third time. And he barely felt a thing as he grabbed at anything he could, just wanting to throw it, crush it and break it.

The innocent hospital supplies that he had flung against the wall were how he's feeling inside.

 _Broken._

What he did feel though was the slight whack on the back of his head. Whirling around, he peered down into the rage-filled eyes of Nurse Maggie.

"You really are stupid, aren't you?" she hissed, grabbed his hand and squeezed it. The pain did shoot through him that time, and he angrily yanked his hand out of her grip.

"Let go of me!"

"What the hell were you thinking? Do you really think you can win in a battle against a wall? Do you think destroying your precious hands is really going to help anything right now? Huh? Do you?"

He wanted to shout at her that - _yes, it is going to help_ \- and his mouth even went so far as to form the words but nothing came out. Instead he sank awkwardly down to the ground, his head in his hands.

If someone were to ask him, Jay would like to think himself as a sensitive man. He would like to believe that he is. It was what made him a good detective. He could be empathetic and sympathetic and he could care. All at the same time. All on cue.

And when he drove with the lights and sirens blaring, signalling an emergency, from his precinct to Med that one unforgettable afternoon, and as he saw Erin's lifeless body on the gurney and as they informed him of their son's chances, he had figured it was natural to be so upset that he shed a few tears.

 _More than a few, actually._

But sitting here, on the floor of an empty exam room, his shoulders heaving and pellets of liquid dripping down his face, he never would have expected himself to show this much vulnerability to someone else other than his family.

But he couldn't stop. He felt the pain in his chest, in his throat, as the guttural cries came tearing out of his body.

It's four years worth of pent-up tears and frustration for the loss of their son.

He hadn't cried since Erin told him to stop. He hadn't cried since he didn't want to upset Erin further. He hadn't cried since Erin told him crying wouldn't bring him back. He hadn't cried since he had to be the husband, he had to be the glue that hold them together because Erin just lost her baby.

Now, another tragedy and he knew without a doubt that if he were ever given a chance to come face-to-face with the men who had hurt her, that they would not be standing by the time he was done

He felt a hand on his arm, and when he finally looked up, he noticed the tears in Maggie's eyes as she handed him a tissue.

"It's not fair." Jay managed to choke out. "She didn't deserve...she shouldn't have...it's just not fair."

"No." she said, "It's not. But punching walls is not going to help her."

"I know. It's just..."

"It's just what?"

"I didn't even heard her left, you know. She was supposed to be sleeping...a few feet away. Why did she have to leave?...and I was just there, on the couch, sleeping...I didn't even notice her gone." Jay shook his head quickly, trying to clear the moisture in his eyes that was beginning to form again. "If I had just stayed awake..." He turned his head away from Maggie, forcing himself to inhale.

"Jay, look at me." she waited a moment.

"Jay!" she commanded, and this time he turned back to her. She lowered her voice. "Don't do this."

"No, Maggie, you don't get it. She was alone. Erin. She was alone. She was there, and I...I was tired so, I slept. And I shouldn't have. I thought she would be safer with me...I promised her...I shouldn't have fallen asleep. If I had just..."

"Jay. Erin wasn't attacked because you didn't stay awake."

"But maybe..."

"No. No maybes. No what ifs. Erin was attacked, and it's horrible and it's sad and we all wish there was some way that we can change it. But you can't blame yourself. You can't think it was you. You can't let her think that. She trusts you. Right now, she trusts you. You can't take that away from her. Erin was attacked, and the only people who are to blame for that are the people who attacked her. I know you wish you could have protected her, but even if you had-"

"...it wouldn't have changed anything." Jay finished, almost guiltily. He knew she was right. If he were to have protected Erin, he knew a lot more would have had to change than just staying awake and gawking at her as she slept.

"I promised her. A long time ago. I promised her I would protect her. I promised her I wouldn't let anyone hurt her like that. I didn't do it. I failed her."

They stayed silent for a while. He can sense her reluctancy of bringing up what she had heard.

"Jay?" It was his brother's voice now as the door to the examine room opened. A questioning glance etched on his face when he looked at the mess, then back at them. "What happened in here?"

"Your brother had a fight with the wall. It's no surprise why you're the doctor. You got the brains. He's got the beauty." Maggie patted his arm gently before she left, informing that she'll get an orderly to clean up the mess.

"Are you alright?" Will asked, eyeing his now crimson knuckles.

"Yes." he flexed his fingers carefully. "Nothing's broken."

"Jay..."

"I'm fine. Just - I just wanna see her." Jay tried to smile but he knew he failed.

He's a failure.

 _Always have._

He failed as a husband.

He failed as a father.

"The detectives wants to speak with you again."

"Did they find something?" he looked up at his brother.

"I don't know. Look, Jay, a lawyer wouldn't be so bad-"

"Will." his voice came out faint with intensity. "I didn't do anything."

"Jay, for God's sake, do you really think I'm - I don't want to see you railroaded, that's all."

"I just wanna help. If they need to clear me, fine." he said as he got up to his feet.

"I understand, but - sometimes good intentions can backfire, Jay."

 _Doesn't he know it!_

"I'll be fine, Will."

* * *

 _He's not fine._ He void his face of tears before walking into his brother's office.

He asked the detectives the same question he had asked his brother, "Did you find something?"

"Sit down." Esposito pointed at a chair and he obliged, sliding into it, more because of the steaming cup of coffee on the table than anything else. His uninjured hand quivered slightly as he brought the styrofoam cup to his lips.

"What happened to you?"

"I walked into a wall."

 _Kind of._

"Very funny. You're a real joker, eh?"

He was silent, taking grateful swallows of the warm liquid. Feeling the effect of the drink right away.

"Who was on the other end of that punch?"

 _A wall._

He can't tell them that. He doesn't want to further confirm his stupidity.

"No one."

It was actually true.

"Are you a violent man, Jay?"

Keep pushing and they'll see what he's capable of.

"I do yoga." he said, bleakly.

The detectives laughed again and he held onto the cup tighter. "Oh, man. You really are funny. Ladies dig that, don't they?"

He doesn't have to respond to that.

Esposito took a few steps to the other side of the table, flipped through a few pages of his notepad.

"Shouldn't you be looking for the people who did this?" Jay finally asked, pointedly. They're heading in the wrong direction.

"I can assure you we have a full team in place to investigate this crime. One of ours assaulted on Christmas Eve? No stone is being left unturned here."

Jay nodded. He wrapped his uninjured hand around the warmth of the coffee cup.

"So...they tell you about the pattern of her injuries?"

He didn't say anything.

"Victims who get _dragged_ like that during an auto theft are usually trying to hold onto something.'

He winced. _Blunt_. _Raw_. He couldn't detach himself from his wordings this time. _Dragged_.

He doesn't like it.

"She's wouldn't." he finally said when he realised they were still waiting. "She knows, I mean. It isn't like her to hold onto a car or her bag, or..." he trailed off.

 _Material possessions_. At the end of the day, they are nothing but materialistic things.

 _We're here. We're still here. We can do this together. You're all I need...Please._

"There's nothing you can think of that would make her refuse to give up her car? Her purse?"

There is something.

But it's not exactly a thing, yet it's still the one thing she values over her life. The one thing she cared the most about.

But he doesn't need to mention it, because it's not an issue anymore. She doesn't have _it_.

"Nothing." he said firmly.

They switched tactics, conversational again. He's tired, sipping numbly at the coffee and trying to focus.

"Where are her folks?"

He shrugged, "She's not close with her mother."

"Her father then?"

"I don't know."

 _It's the safest answer._

She doesn't know her dad.

"It's Christmas. Maybe she wanted to visit them?"

Under different circumstances, he would have laughed at the thought. He shook his head instead.

"No plans to see your in-laws for the holidays?"

 _Not in this lifetime._

He shook his head again.

"Speak up, please."

"No." he enunciated carefully, stopping just sort of insolent exaggeration. "No, _we_ have don't."

 _We?_

"So, you just didn't notice her?"

"Excuse me?"

"How is it that you didn't notice someone leaving your apartment? You really didn't wake up when she left, Jay?"

"No." he said simply. He's embarrassed of that fact, to say the least.

The smaller one - Ryan - gave him a sympathetic nod. Jay knows what he's doing. He too was him when he was a cop. He's always been the good cop whenever they would play good cop/bad cop. But now he's too tired to care. Or to analyse their obvious tactics.

Esposito frowned. "You _were_ a cop, right? Homicide?" he said, purposefully placed exaggerated emphasis on _were_.

"Yes."

"So, you should know, statistically speaking the percentage of female victims getting attacked by strangers. Yes? Vice versa someone they know. A partner, a husband perhaps."

His message was clear. Instantly, he's uncomfortable.

Jay blinked. He knows, it's always the partner, the boyfriend, the husband. They've had numerous cases where the significant other were the culprits. Only a mere sixteen percent of female homicides are perpetrated by strangers.

"Yes. I'm aware. _We_ also used to volunteer at a DV shelter-" there's that word again, _we_. But it was a _we_. _Partners_. They were always a team.

He hadn't realised until they started volunteering at the shelter how many of the women escaping violent situations were pregnant.

 _It was a nightmare._

They looked much like how Erin looks right now. _Bruised and broken._ All of them. Erin matches them now. _Battered._

In the ride back home, every time after they'd volunteer, Erin would squeeze his hand tighter, wordlessly holding on tighter than usual.

He remembered it well. Especially the four-year-old girl with curly black hair who cried every time he came near her, asking him not to hurt her.

He later learned that her brain was slowly leaking blood since she had been tossed down a flight of stairs by the same man who had broken her mother's ribs in the same place five times. He also learned later that after raising enough money for her surgery, she didn't make it.

Children are resilient but not that resilient.

They stopped volunteering when Erin told him she was pregnant.

 _Erin was pregnant._

He laced his fingers together now, thinking of that little girl. Xiomara. That was her name. A beautiful name.

 _Ready for battle._

She was a fighter.

He thought of the amount of force it would take to break the bones in another person's face. He drew a deep breath. "I've had cases where the victims were murdered by their significant other. So, just like you, I am aware."

"You sound sure."

Actually, he's not too sure of anything these days.

"Those are some bruised knuckles for a pacifist, Jay. You ever punch your wife like that?"

He stood up, pushing back his chair. "I don't have to take this."

"I thought you wanted to help."

"Help doesn't mean sitting here and taking this...abuse...while whoever did this to her is still out there."

"Sit down, Jay. If you want to help, sit down."

He sat heavily.

"All right. Let's backtrack."

 _Again._

"So she got up, left and you're still sleeping."

They will never stop painting him as a failure.

"I didn't wake up until the hospital called." He's been deposed enough times to know not to answer for anyone but himself.

"How do you suppose she got from your apartment to her car?"

"I don't know."

He doesn't want to think.

"We do."

He looked up. "What?"

"Turns out there aren't that many taxi dispatchers on Edgewater. Just enough to remember a middle-of-the-night pickup on Christmas Eve."

Jay swallowed hard. "A taxi."

 _I'm not going anywhere with you!_

Erin had slipped out of his apartment, called a cab, then, got the hell beaten out of her.

He drew a breath.

"We have the driver. Brought him in for questioning."

"What did he-"

"Says he drove her to Joe's, just like the call said. Left her in the parking lot, at her request."

Jay's mind raced. "But he could be the one-"

"Turns out he's got an alibi."

"He does?"

"Says he left her at her car, went to the bar. The bartender-"

"Nick."

Esposito regarded him with a chuckle. "Right. Nick. He remembers him. He remembers other things too."

"Like what?" Jay picked up on his accusation.

"Like you and the missus having a little bit of a scene in the bar last night."

 _Damn it!_

Damn Nick and his honourable tendencies. Of course he'd tell everything he saw. He'd want to help.

"It's not-"

"Let me guess, it's not what I think."

This isn't going so well for him now.

"Right."

He probably should've listened to Will about getting a lawyer.

"So, she didn't say she didn't want to leave with you?"

He didn't answer.

"You forced her to leave with you?"

"No!"

"So, she just changed her mind then?"

"Yea."

It's the truth. _But who'd believe him now?_

 _Erin, just come outside with me. Ok? Let's just get some air._

She had leaned heavily against him on the way to his car. She was silent as they drove to his apartment. Unblinking when they drove over the bridge.

"You went home, went to sleep all lovey-dovey, she hightailed it out of there in the dead of night, called a taxi, and you never heard a thing. On Christmas Eve."

Exactly.

He didn't respond.

It's bad. Now as he heard it out loud, it all sounds pathetic on his part. This is all wrong. He an imbecile for thinking that he could change these detectives' minds.

 _He's the husband. It's always the husband._

"Where do you think she was headed, Jay?"

 _Home._

"I don't know."

"And you have no idea who could have attacked her."

"Of course not."

"You can't think of anyone who would want to hurt her?"

"No."

"Did you know she is seeing someone?"

Jay ran a hand through his hair, straining himself, he must not have heard him. It can't be.

 _Was that a question?_

He had to have heard him wrongly.

"Excuse me?"

 _Erin's seeing someone?_

 _Who?_

 _Erin can't be seeing someone!_

"Oh, it's all coming together now. You brought her to your apartment, expecting more. She told you she was seeing somebody else and you snapped. I know your type, I see it all the time. The calm and loving husband who can do no wrong until..." he snapped his fingers, and Jay jumped lightly at the loud echoes, "Until you can't handle it anymore and crack. So, you smacked her around a couple of times. Dumped her body in the parking lot, take her car to make it look like a carjacking. Am I getting there, Jay? I'm right, aren't I?"

Jay watched as the detective's eyes narrowed intensely, his gaze penetrating him. He wiped a hand quickly across his face, hoping to rid himself of any evidence of a potential breakdown - _Erin is seeing someone_ \- but he stifled a groan as he suddenly felt the sharp, shooting pain in his hand. Looking down he saw his mangled, bloody knuckles and, for the first time, realised what he had done.

"Don't answer anything else."

He turned to see an unfamiliar face in the doorway. Business suit, heels, briefcase and narrowed eyes.

"Detectives, my client is not answering any further questions. His wife is in critical condition and I'm sure you'll agree that we're all better served if he returns to her side now."

"What if I don't agree?"

"Then you can take it up with me. He's not answering any more questions right now." she turned to Jay, pressed a card into his hand. "Go back to your wife. I'll handle this."

He hesitated, confused. He looked down at his palm; she's a lawyer for the hospital. Will must have called her. "Go." she repeated. "I understand she's asking for you."

But she's seeing somebody else.

* * *

Natalie was standing outside her room when he got there. He's still taken aback with the detective's choice of accusatory words, the information he vomited on him in spite. But it must not be true. Detectives lie all the time. He must know. He have. It's a tactic to trick the questioned in getting information out of them.

 _Erin can't be seeing someone._

Natalie looked over her shoulder as he approached. "They're just finishing with her vitals. Give them a second. She was a champ for the scans." And her gaze fell onto the ice pack still resting on his hand. "Worth it?"

"I don't know."

"Broken?"

"No."

"Good."

He stood silently beside her for a moment.

"Thank you."

She nodded, looking at him with her intense eyes. "No need to thank me. I did it for her and...for you."

He swallowed. "Natalie, I..." he broke off, unable to finish.

"I know this is hard."

"It wouldn't be hard for you. You would be able to do this."

"You sure about that?"

"I'm sure." he looked at her, at her calm and collected stance. "You did do it. In there. You helped her, when I - you helped her."

"It's different - it is," she insisted when he shook his head. "If that were Will in there, God forbid, sorry, I don't know if I could have done the same thing."

"It's different, when it's someone you love. That doesn't mean I don't love Erin. I do. We're friends. But it's different when it's someone you love, you know."

Someone you love.

 _Christmas makes you want to be with people you love._

He could see her in his memory clearly as if she was standing right in front of him. Covering her face with her hands, turning away. The slight movement in her shoulders that broadcasted her tears even as she tried to hide them.

 _I don't know what the third option is. I just know I still love you._

"Look, Jay -" her voice reoriented him. "The way I see it, being sure is overrated. Maybe it's never going to happen. Fine. You don't need to be sure. You just need to get in there and do what you can do."

"What if I don't know what I can do?"

"Then you can just be here. Someone needs to be here, and you're here. That's what you can do. The rest will come naturally."

The door to Erin's room swung open. The team nodded in approval to him and he brushed past them, Natalie's advice ringing in his ears as he crossed the threshold.

The large clock on the wall announced that only a few hours of Christmas is left. What's still to be seen, he mused as he approached the barely stirring figure on the bed, is whether things can get any worse.

Worser than how things are at the moment.

He approached the bed slowly. As he got closer he saw that she was awake, her undamaged eye open. A nurse was leaning over her, saying something, and he watched as her lips barely move in response before he reached her side.

"Er?"

She looked at him with that same vague recognition from earlier and he touched the undamaged portion of her face lightly, trying to guide her.

 _She's not seeing someone. She cannot already be seeing someone. She cannot be seeing someone else. She's his, forever._

Their divorce isn't even finalised yet.

"Erin? Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital." she croaked.

"Right. Good." His fingers lingered on her cheek. "And who am I?"

"Jay." She said his name with certainty. Firmly.

 _With this ring, I thee wed._

Their promise.

"Good." he smoothed her hair.

"I asked, I asked for you."

"And I came." he pulled a chair beside her.

 _Who's the guy?_

"But I don't - I'm not sure -" The visible part of her face scrunched up as she tried to think. Her nose, unhurt, always crinkled like that when she's puzzled.

Her voice was hoarse. The bowl of ice chips on the stow table had long since melted into water.

"What is it, Er?"

"I can't - I can't remember why I'm here."

"It's okay."

"What happened to me?"

"Erin." he touched her good hand. He doesn't know how to tell her.

"Car." she said abruptly. Her face wrinkled again. "Car...accident?" The words started to flow faster. "I was in a car accident? Jay -"

He took her hand more firmly in both of his as her voice rose.

"Relax. Erin, you need to relax. You're going to be fine."

Her hand slid between his and he saw her face furrow one more time as her fingers glide across his swollen knuckles.

"What happened?" she asked again.

"You're going to be fine, Er."

"No, to...to you. What happened to you? Your hand." she croaked, touching his mangled knuckles again. She doesn't - can't - lift her head, but her hand moved over his with familiarity.

"Nothing, Er, I'm fine." Gently he disengaged his fingers from hers. "Listen, some people want to ask you a few questions. I'll be right outside. If you want me to come back, just-"

"Ask." she interrupted him. Her mouth twisted.

"That's right." he stood, forcing down a sense of awkwardness to lean over and kiss her forehead. And he did. Just below the first set of bandages and just above the second. Her skin felt cool and dry against his lips.

" _I haven't forgotten.._."

Of course she haven't.

She's Erin. That's a reason on it's own.

She never forgets his mistakes.

 _Who's the lucky guy that has replaced him? Why isn't he here?_

The investigators entered her room as he left. They pass each other wordlessly and he closed the door behind him.

Watching through the glass pane, he was struck - again - by a wave of uncertainty. Inside the private ICU room, the investigators were gently probing for details. Upstairs, he knows, the detectives still have questions about his own involvement.

She has moved on.

 _Please, Jay! Stop! Listen!_

He flexed his throbbing fingers slightly, seeing his own hands in front of him.

Taking ahold of her and pushing her across the same threshold he had carried her over seven years ago.

"You're really going to do this?" she had laughed then, almost towering over him in the high heels she loved, twining her wrists around his neck.

"Are you questioning my strength?" he had teased, growling into her neck as he slid an arm under her thighs, hoisting her.

She was easy to lift, lighter than she looked, and she folded her arms around him.

"Now, you have to do this every day." she giggled, and he kissed her as he stepped through the open doorway and into their new house.

They were still kissing when he set her gently on her feet. When they pulled apart, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, marvelled at the fact that he would get to look at her face every day for the rest of his life.

"Welcome home."

He drew a deep breath, letting it rinse the memory away.

Will walked over to stand beside him at the window. "She's going to be ok."

Jay nodded, swallowing hard. He can't be angry at his brother for those meaningless words. Looking at his face, he knows that the platitude was as much for himself as it is for him.

"She's tough." Will reassured again.

She is tough.

Too tough, sometimes.

* * *

 ** _Four Years Before_**

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

He opened his eyes, expecting to stir to his wife's flannel clad back, like he always does, but instead it was a blank wall that had greeted him.

 _Cold and empty._

 _Alone._

Erin might as well be lying here, to be honest. She has become so cold and so empty. Long gone were her rosy and cheeky grin. Long gone were her warm touch. Long gone were her promising eyes.

The Erin he knew was long gone and in replace is a woman whose whole existence has been tested, whose dreams were crushed, who's finding it difficult to wake up in the morning.

 _There's no reason to._

 _Stop bothering me, Jay!_

 _There's no point._

 _Go away!_

And he'd call Voight for her, like he does often now, ringing him to tell him that Erin is sick. _Again._

Now, in the middle of the night, he had just been woken up to an empty bed in his childhood bedroom, plaid bedspread twisted around his legs. He's not too sure what had woken him up tonight.

A bad dream, perhaps. But his life seemed to be a series of nightmares now.

 _Where's Erin?_

She had fallen asleep beside him, he's sure of it. _Definitely_. She was in pyjamas, curled gently away from his extended hands, with warm socks that she always wore when she's here. Even with those socks on, her toes would still feel icy through the wool when they brush against his.

She kept saying that it's the house's fault, that house was freezing but it wasn't. It really wasn't because the heater had been turned on the whole day.

Slipping into his slippers, mindful of the squeaky floorboards, he toed softly and gently towards the stairs so as to not wake everyone else up. Not everyone has the ability to sleep through everything, like he has. He's a deep sleeper. Always have.

But perhaps not tonight.

He sensed her presence even before he saw her. It was heavy, accentual, miserable even. _She's miserable._ He knows that. So is he. Then she came to view once he walked a few steps to the living room.

Sitting cross-legged on the hearth was his wife, staring up at the large fireplace that hung the family stockings. All the way from _Mom_ , which was cross-stitched crookedly in white by a grade school Will, decades ago, down to _Jesse_ , expertly and perfectly sewn by his mother for Louisa's two-year-old, the youngest in the family.

 _Well, he's back to being the youngest again._

Erin addressed him without even turning around and he's struck by the thought that she too had sensed him.

 _Was it a sense of misery that he's eluting?_

"Your mother...she made one for him, didn't she."

 _Was it a question?_

He doesn't know. It didn't sound like one, more like a statement or she's just to hackneyed to even bother with the punctuations now.

 _Has his mother made one for him too?_

He didn't answer. He had actually been wondering the same thing himself and had concluded that his mother must have. Before he was born. As she always does with all the other grandchildren.

The excitement of being a grandmother to another child had always been her driving force.

What ever happened to the finished product is anyone's guess.

He walked slowly towards her in the dim light. She was resting one arm around her midsection, the way she always does now, as if she was still trying to protect something there. It could be anything, really. The remembered swell of her belly. The infant she cradled too briefly in her arms. The incision that brought him into the world.

He wants her to stop because it pains him to see her clutching her stomach like that. She doesn't understand how difficult this is for him too.

 _He lost his child as well._

 _He lost him too._

He wants to tell her to stop but he knows he can't. It's not rightSo, he's telling her to stop in his head.

 _Stop it, Erin. Enough. Please._

He's pleading in his head.

It's an agonising reminder whenever he looks at her.

 _Does it still hurt?_ he had asked her once - _only once_ \- running a light finger over the bright scar as they lay silently in bed together. It was the first month since he was taken away from them too soon.

It was the hardest month he had to endure, the hardest thing he had to face in his entire life. Searing fiery burst pulsated in his chest every second of the day, intensifying with each dragging step. The pain was so brutal and jarring that it physically hurt to even get out of bed. But he had to, it's what's expected of him because he's the husband and his wife just lost her baby.

She ignored him then, pulling her shirt down and pretended like she hadn't heard him.

Now, she simply pushes his hands away from her stomach on the very rare occasions that she allows him to touch her.

But it felt as though that scar on her stomach from where their son took his first breath was calling out to him.

 _...Dad...Dad...Dad..._

He just had to stare at it. _He feels so empty._ And she must too since not too long ago, there was a life growing inside. _Their son._

Grippingly, the scar was compelling him to do something, forcing a reaction out of him. _Anything_. An angry red line, not nearly as faint as he had expected it to be. _Screaming in_ _rage_. Not quiet nor soft, but always never exposed. Somehow, it's both as blatant and as hidden as their dolour.

So, he pressed his lips to it, following some sort of instinct from within, from somewhere he couldn't quite pinpoint it's beginning, he couldn't identify his reasoning for his tender caress, but she pushed him away, hard - almost qualifying as a shove - the muscles under his mouth jerked violently.

"Don't ever do that again." she hissed.

He froze, embarrassed and backed away obediently.

That was that.

He never dare touch her scar ever again.

Then, he hoisted her soft cotton pants back up to her waist - her stomach was still pocketed with a soft, loose patch of stretched skin that hadn't yet gone away and comfortable sweats were her choice of coverage - and took to his side of the bed as if a wall had divided them.

A glutton for punishment, as he always is, he had decide to say something one more time before surrendering to sleep, "I thought it was healing...nicely..." his voice trailed off when she suddenly turned on him with ice in her eyes.

 _He just made her mad._

"Well, you thought wrong." she snapped, rolled over to the other side and was left alone to contemplate healing.

Physically, she's healed. Perfectly even.

Mentally and emotionally, he don't think she ever will.

That was nearly two months ago. _October._ Now, she still hunches in that familiar position, her arm shielding pains of real and phantom.

The air was thick and silent. He hadn't said a word yet. She had asked him something but he couldn't quite get himself to speak. _He feels lost._

His nose were making up for the work his ears were avoiding - silence. The room was filled with pungent Christmas aromas. The sweet tang of the cranberry bread his mother baked by the dozen, the crisp pine of the tree, the cinnamon from the cider, the gamey smell of roasted turkey that was now all gone. Only left was an empty shell of a bony carcass.

 _Christmas just doesn't feel the same anymore._

Last year, they were happy. _Ecstatic_. _Excited_. _Elated_. She had given him the best present - she was ready to start a family. A family, that was what he had always wanted. It was his dream. _A family of his own._ Now, he's not too sure if he'll ever have one or if she'll ever be ready again.

She's still waiting for him to say something, he knows that but he still remained quiet.

 _How should he respond to her?_

 _Say something!_

She had screamed that to him about a month ago during one of their fights, he remembered how loud she was - stunned, he jumped, ears ringing - but not the reason for their quarrel.

Erin's scary when she's angry.

 _I'm trying to think!_

He had shouted back at her. It was honest. It's just that his mind wasn't working fast enough, not as quick as she'd like. Blank, he couldn't think of anything.

Now, he's standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets as if he's able to magically find the answers there.

 _What to say?_

He moved forward, dropped cautiously to his knees next to her. She didn't turn around and he can sense the aura shifting as he got closer.

He's only able to see her profile, the strands from her loose ponytail hid part of her beautiful face, but tension on her jawline was still very much clear.

"Erin, it's-" but he knows everything that he has to say would seem too obsolete for what they're feeling. _Miserable_. "It's ok to cry." he finally said. It sounded so stupid now that he heard it out loud, banality and dumb and he regretted it almost immediately as those words were out of his mouth.

Like she doesn't know that already.

She ought to be exhausted of people constantly telling her that.

He waited patiently for her to snap at him, like he knows she would, or to get up and walk away, but she just turned to face him.

Her eyes were sea-green, no longer were they vibrant like a forest, swimming with unshed tears. They're always much greener when she's upset.

 _What colour do you think his eyes will be? When he's older, I mean. Don't just say blue, Jay. I mean what kind of blue._

"You can cry anywhere, anywhere in this house..." he tried to keep his voice light, not taking his eyes off her.

He's worried about her because he don't think she've shed a tear since his funeral. She may have when she's alone in the bathroom or when no one's around but he really don't think so.

She shook her head, turning away from him, _betrayed_.

His mother and sisters, even her own mother had been pestering her about emotions, crying, trying to get her to let it all out, and all he can say is that those were pointless tactics. They don't know her like he does. They don't know that Erin's not one for crying in public. They don't know that Erin likes to put up a front, a wall. They don't know that Erin likes to _appear_ strong, unbreakable. They don't know that she's as vulnerable as a prey, as breakable as glass and as emotional as everyone else.

He knows her. He married her. He loves her.

No one knows her like he does.

"Er." he reached for her shoulder and she slightly shrugged away, enough to keep his fingers skimming the loopy wool of her sweater.

She had worn a cardigan over her pyjamas.

She's always cold lately.

 _Don't push each other away._

 _There is nothing harder than losing a child, but it will get easier._

He thought about the words the priest had told him on the day of his funeral. He was the only one speaking to the priest because Erin had gone up to their room, annoyed that everyone was telling her what to do, what to feel, how to mourn. Like there were a set of rules and instructions that they have to follow.

It all sounded so hollow and rehearsed. He's certain they weren't the only family he had said that to that day. He didn't want to stand there and listen but he had to, one of them had to and since Erin just lost her baby, he's left to be strong for the both of them, to face it all by himself.

 _Don't push each other away._

Those words held no meaning to him. It's all they've been doing lately - pushing each other away.

 _When will it get easier?_

He needs to know because he's so tired of this ache in his chest, he's so tired of feeling hopeless all the damn time.

He can't believe he's even saying this but he wants to forget he even had a son because only then, this burning pain radiating in his chest will seize to exist.

"Erin-"

"Stop saying that."

"What? Your name?"

"No. The crying...thing." he saw her fingers arc in the air, a gesture of frustration. "If I want to cry, I...will. I just don't want everyone standing around waiting for me to break or something."

"I don't think that's what-"

"Then, stop telling me to cry!"

"Alright. I'm sorry." he gentled his tone. She's moody nowadays, unpredictable at times. _Hormones_ , the doctors had warned him. They could shift and fluctuate for months afterwards. Patience in his situation is the key. There's nothing he could do other than to withstand her volatile behaviour.

"Ask her." she said after a while.

"Hmm?"

"Ask your mother...where the stocking is."

"Er..."

"That's what I want."

He sat back on his heels, unsure of how to respond. He don't think it's healthy for her to have that stocking. They still hadn't yet cleared his room. His things are still in there, down the hall, across from there's, making walking out of their own room agonisingly painful.

He didn't even get to wear the onesies they bought for him. Or play with all of his toys. Or make friends. Or see his family - his many cousins, aunties and uncles. Or even _them_ , his very own parents. He didn't even get to know or see the people who had brought him to life.

They didn't even brought him home.

None of this dilemma was in the pamphlets the hospital gave him.

 _A how-to for parents in grief_.

She hadn't even taken a look at those pamphlets and she also refused to join the counselling sessions alongside him.

 _He feels so alone._

"If you want me to ask, I'll ask." he answered.

"I want it."

"Ok, Erin."

"Don't make fun of me, Jay."

Sighing loudly, he just sat there with his hands bunched up in his hair. He should be used to feeling like this - _helpless -_ but he's not. He wants to do something but he knows there's nothing he could do to make any of this pain go away. He doesn't know what to do with her anymore, how to help her. He's very frightened for their relationship, their future. He doesn't know what's going to happen to them.

Their relationship is on rocky waters.

"I'll ask for the stocking." he kept his tone even. "Can we go back to bed now?"

 _Silence._

He might as well have said nothing because she's still sitting there, unmoving, in front of the fireplace.

"Erin."

Tentatively he inched closer until they're beside each other and reached his arm out to her. As she did earlier that night, she allowed him to wrap his arm around her, but didn't relax against him. Again, as if she was uncertain on what to do. He rubbed her arm, pressing his lips to the top of her head. She felt tense against him and she stiffened further when he tried to massage the tight muscles on her neck.

"Er..."

"Jay, stop." she murmured.

"Stop what?"

It's a legitimate question.

 _Stop what?_

 _Touching her?_

 _Talking to her?_

But she wouldn't or couldn't answer him.

"Er, look-" But he broke off before he could finish. It seemed so pointless to say - _Don't do this. Don't push me away._ \- because he have the distinct feeling that he's already sprinted far faraway.

"His stocking should be up there." she said, almost too softly for him to hear.

"Ok. We'll ask mom. If she has it, we'll take it with us." he's relieved now. They've got a plan. He's got a plan.

That's something he could do.

"No." she shook her head firmly against him, her chin brushing his shoulder.

"No? You don't want to take it with us?" he's confused now. Uncertain again. He closed his eyes briefly. They're back to square one.

" _It doesn't matter_."

"Erin, don't say that." he responded more to the bleakness in her tone than the words itself.

 _The worst thing is not to talk about it_ , the counsellor had told him. It doesn't matter so much what you say, as long as you keep talking.

 _United. They will grow stronger if they help stand together, help one another._

He stumbled, trying to backtrack. "Sorry, Erin, just - just tell me what you mean."

"I mean it doesn't matter."

"But I thought you wanted it-"

"I wanted it _here_!" her voice was a loud burst, startling him. She pulled away from him, harshly. He let her go. "I wanted it _here_." she repeated, jabbing a finger at the fireplace. Her eyes were dry now, tearless. "I want it _here_. I want _him_ here. I want _him_ here."

She stopped talking as abruptly as she started, pressing her cold fingers to her lips.

He started to reach for her again but she's far, so out of reach, and he got the sense that he's unable to cross this mountainous space between them and allowed his hands to drop.

"I know." he whispered. "I know he was supposed to be here. But, Erin, we're here. We're still here. We can do this together. You're all I need...Please."

It sounded more dented than anything else he have tried tonight because once he voiced it out, he realised the painful truth that he's not actually sure if he believes it himself.

* * *

 _I just don't want everyone standing around waiting for me to break or something..._

Waiting for Erin to break, when it happened - and it did happen - it was more or less spectacular than they had all predicted, than they had feared.

 _It happened_. It really did happen and it became another thing on their list, one of the things they silently vowed to never speak about.

"Halstead?"

Will and him both look up to see the investigators exiting Erin's room, closing the door behind them.

"Does she -"

The detective shook her head before Jay could finish. "She has no memory at all of the attack. We worked to try to place her last memory, it may be yesterday, but it's not clear."

Looking down at her notes, "But she remembers a baby."

 _It's Christmas, Jay. We love Christmas. Or at least we used to._

His mouth dried up. "A baby?"

"Yes, a baby. I got it that her Unit were investigating a case involving a death of a four-year-old. She couldn't remember any more specific details about the case." she was studying him sympathetically. "She doesn't know why she was in the parking lot or where she was heading. You were the last one to speak with her?"

"Yes, I think so. But she's seeing someone else so..." he doesn't have to turn around to know that his brother was as taken aback by his blatancy.

"We'll check her phone records."

He simply nodded. He's being petty for bringing that up. But he just wants to know the guy whom his wife have apparently been seeing. He can't be mad at her and he doesn't want to. He's the one who ruined their marriage.

Complaining is the last thing he ought to be doing.

"She may remember still. It takes time." she said, giving him another sympathetic smile. "You can go in now. We'll be around and we'll want to talk to her again, but for now she's all yours."

 _Is she?_

Jay cleared his throat, thanking the detective, and rested a hand on the door. His brother following suit.

"Erin?" he sat on the empty chair by her bed, taking her good hand in his. What's surprising is that it's such an automatic gesture. _Muscle memory._

Not comfortable, but familiar.

She looks exhausted. The human body is resilient, built to withstand many terrains, but it requires rest in order to heal.

Her visible eye fluttered closed every ten seconds or so, an effect of the painkillers they've dosed her with and the sleep her body desperately craves.

He's already learned the uninjured spot that he could touch, her uninjured cheek and jaw, her good hand and arm.

That's it.

Her voice was faint when she finally spoke. Hoarse. "I could...couldn't remember."

"It's okay." he cupped her hands between his.

"What happened to me?" her hand lifted weakly towards the bandaged portion of her face.

"Erin, don't." he caught her wrist before she could touch her face, drawing her arm carefully back to her side.

"It doesn't hurt." her voice was soft with wonder.

He stroked her cheek lightly. "You're on some painkillers."

 _That's an understatement._

"Please...tell me. What happened?" Her fingers clenched around his. "Will, what happened to my face?" she has now turned to him and Will was straining words to say, finding a way to lessen the blow of the truth of her crushed face.

They heard a tap on the glass and looked up at the welcomed interruption. A doctor walked in, apologising for interrupting before turning her attention to Will.

"Dr. Halstead, the scans are ready." she said softly, almost in a whisper but Jay can still hear her loud and clear.

"Thank you, doctor. I'll be right there."

Jay got up from the chair, ready to tell Erin that he'll be back, ready to accompany his brother to see her scans but Will rested a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. "You can't come. Just stay here with Erin."

But she's seeing someone else.

* * *

He turned on the X-ray film light box on the wall, adjusted his glasses and began reviewing the scans.

 _Erin's scans._

It's part of his job to reconstruct scenarios - _the what exactly happened_ \- evaluating and calculating the patterns of injuries, essentially creating a narrative from the negatives.

A ten millimetre dilation for a pregnancy is more than an anomaly. It's a story that comes in whole, a complete package with a beginning, a middle, and an end.

 _That's what a story is._

First, the pathology, the causes and effects of a condition that creates the symptoms. A series of tests, poking and prodding with cold rubbery palms for the evaluation.

 _Contractions. Leakage of amniotic fluid. Or even a ruptured placenta._

Second, the evaluation and diagnosis, the identification of the nature of the said symptoms, the results of the tests taken. Educating the patient on the prognosis.

 _A cervix exam. A blood test. An ultrasound. Finding the baby's heartbeat._

Finally, the treatment from the resulting prognosis, the best course of action for a complete recovery.

 _A c-section or a natural birth._

The determined survival for _both_ mother and child. _Both_. Not just one of the two but _both_.

Improved function. Limited viability. Total recovery. Those are what we all aim for - _total recovery_. But there is always the possibility of the worst case scenario, _death_. Death for one of the two. Death of the mother. Death of the child. Or even much worse, death of _both_.

 _Death._

He studied the fluorescent pictures very intently, purposefully, paying mind to each and every grid and angle of the two-dimensional radiation absorbed images.

 _Erin's scans._

The zygomatic arch and orbital fractures tells a story he doesn't want to hear. He doesn't want to analyse them because he can clearly picture how had those animals created those fractures.

 _One blow?_

 _No. Definitely more than three._

He distanced himself, taking a deep breath to keep his blood from boiling, to review the pictures like a doctor would instead of a relative or whatever his relationship status with Erin has become now.

 _A brother? A friend? An about-to-be-ex-brother-in-law?_

It's difficult to know what his role is now because for ten whole years, she've been a part of their family, apart of all the family gatherings. Erin _is_ family. _One of his sisters_. And because of one mistake on his brother's part, which resulted in their separation and proceeding divorce, she's forever gone.

 _Blunt force trauma._

A blunt trauma with enough force to break bones. Her cheekbone, in this case. Her eye socket too. From the patterns of the fractures, it's evident that she was hit more than once.

In the face.

The compound fracture of her right arm, reviewing closely with trained eyes, he can tell that the fracture was clean and slated - snapped. The force, again, must be so great for her bones to break in two. With something, she was definitely struck was something hard and heavy.

He thought, unwillingly, of the thousands of scans he had reviewed from assault victims over the years. Sometimes he would be the only person who could put the pieces together to create a reasonable timeline and story for the injuries because the victims couldn't.

Memories the brain couldn't or wouldn't willingly recall, couldn't willingly do more harm to the psyche, stories can be told by pictures like these; the coils, the hidden folds, the clots and sprouting arteries.

It's all so fascinating.

 _The human brain._

He can do this. He can be a doctor. He can look at these pictures and take a physician's impression of what Erin went through in that parking lot.

But that's all he can do.

But he wants to do more.

Like four years ago, he wanted to do more, but he just couldn't. He has limited authorisation. He's a doctor - _yes_ \- but neonatal is not his specialty. He can't tell a doctor who's the head of the neonatal department how to do his job. He have and may have been a little aggressive, after all he's Irish, and got reported to the broads.

He too wouldn't want doctors telling him how to do his.

He thought of Erin's haunting words.

 _Please, Will, please. The doctor said there could be a chance. That's all he needs. A chance. You have to save him. Will!_

 _Will, what happened to my face?_

He closed his eyes and saw the scans float in front of him, the tiny pink human behind the plexiglass.

 _His nephew._

 _Her skull._

The zygomatic bone, a fist driving into her face.

He wrote it down.

It's time to write her story.

* * *

Jay stole a glance from his watch and tried desperately to stifle a sigh. _Two_ _hours_. It's been two hours since his brother left to look at her scans and he's, to be very honest, tired and exhausted. He wants to sleep, close his eyes, rest for at least five minutes, but he's afraid that if he do, something awful will happen to Erin.

 _Life works that way._

Once you let your guard down, life will reward you by changing your life for the worse.

So, he took another sip of his very black coffee and glanced at his watch one more time.

Christmas Day is about to end.

 _It's our holiday, Jay!_

Looking down at Erin as he stroked her hair, he remembered when they would sit by the fireplace, huddled together in a warm blanket as they come up with names to name their son.

She wanted his name to start with either of their initials and she reluctantly picked the letter 'J' because she didn't like any of the selections 'E' had to offer.

Whatever name she wanted to name their son, he was more than delighted to agree to it. He trusts her.

All he wanted was a healthy baby.

He smiled, bringing the cup to his lips when he heard his name being called.

"Mr. Halstead."

He looked up to see the same female detective who had talked to Erin a few hours ago, beckoning him out of the room. _Mr. Halstead_. He've never been called that as much as he have had been today.

As he approached her, he saw the files and packages, which he knows to be bagged evidence, in her hands and he felt a gnawing discomfort in his stomach. He's not sure if he can take any more of the intense interrogation, accusation. _He's tired_.

But then, his weakness turned to guilt and now he's ashamed of himself for feeling this way, for feeling like a loser, for feeling hopeless, for complaining, because Erin is in a hospital bed, fighting for her life. And he's the one questioning how much more he can handle all this.

He swallowed hard.

"Detective," he said briefly, gesturing vaguely towards Erin's door. "I should get back to-"

"Mr. Halstead." She was slightly out of breath, he noticed. "We think we found the car."

His heart fluttered. "You found her car?"

"The plates were already long gone, deep in Lake Michigan perhaps, but it matches the description. We need you to take a look at some pictures."

"Yea, yes, of course." he stammered, surprised.

She showed him a picture of the car and he swallowed hard. It certainly looked like hers, the black 2013 Audi Q7, one that she got for herself, brand new, so that a car seat could be fastened nicely at the back with enough room for them to expand when Jack gets older and bigger. _It's baby-friendly. Safety comes first._ Spacious and roomy for them to move around too, store their gears and tools and groceries, that all could be stowed at the back. _Mom-friendly._

"It looks like her car."

"CSU found some items inside the car. They've been bagged, but if you'd take a look, then maybe it will help identify the car."

He nodded, then looked back at the rest of pictures in hand.

Something in the backseat caught his eye. "What's-" The detective reached for the picture but he still held onto the enlarged picture. "What is that?"

The detective didn't answer.

He stared at the object, studying it with wide eyes. "It looks like a-"

"It's a tire iron."

A tire iron.

 _Jesus!_

"It could have been much worse." she said gently.

He's getting tired of hearing that.

It is much worse.

He can't image anything being much worse than how it already is.

A tire iron.

"Based on the damage, it seems like she ducked, and -"

"And held up her arm." Jay pieced it together slowly, out loud.

The attacker - hopefully the preposition stays singular - must have caught her off guard and in defence, she must have held her arm above her head, shielding the blow to her skull. And that must have been how she broke her arm.

 _What if she had reacted a second too late and the attacked did smacked her in the skull with the tire iron?_

The detective was right, it could've been much worse.

"Exactly. Which was very smart of Detective Lindsay."

"She is smart."

The detective smiled sympathetically. "I understand that this must be upsetting to see. But as you know too, finding the weapon is actually a good thing. It may help us find your wife's attackers. We'll be able to test it for prints, for matter and fibres and-"

"Is that blood?" he held the picture closer to her, studying the dark patches on the metal instrument.

"Yes." Her voice was quiet.

 _Shit!_

He's silent now as he held tightly on the disconcerting pictures. It felt almost as though there's still a part of Erin that's in the car and he's reluctant to let go.

"Mr. Halstead, we are going to do everything we can to catch the people who did this."

"They, uh," he cleared his throat, handing back the pictures to her. "Someone saw them?"

"Two men were seen parking the car."

"They're not caught?" He felt the ignorance of the question on his tongue but can't help himself. He would rather ask questions like a simpleton than think about two men attacking his wife. He would very much like to think about anything other than those animals.

She shook her head. "Unfortunately, they fled the scene before the dispatch got there."

"And they just...left her car like that?"

She nodded. "Most likely they got spooked when they heard about the search. And realised she's a Chicago P.D. detective."

He thought of Erin at her car, opening the door, thinking about - he's not sure of the answer to that one.

 _What was she thinking about? Him? Their son? Their house? His betrayal? Their marriage? The guy she's seeing?_

 _Distracted_. She was definitely distracted. Maybe because of him and messed up choices he had made.

He thought of the amount of force it must take to do the kind of damage that has been done to Erin. Her arm was snapped. Half of her face was crushed. Part of her body was burnt from being dragged. _And for what?_

To steal a car.

A wallet of limited cash and credit cards filled with debts she cannot pay, cards too easily to be traced.

Seeing the car abandoned like that made a muscle in his jaw tense.

He thought of Erin, waiting for surgery, waiting her answers as to why she's here, why she needs surgery, why her face is covered in bandages, why she's hooked to many wires and tubes.

She's still not sure what happened to her.

 _Why would they do this to her?_

He didn't realise he had actually said that question, which was supposed to only be heard by himself, aloud until the detective's words interrupted his thoughts, "I wish knew. I wish I had an answer for you. Unfortunately, without anything else to go on, it may just be a random act of violence. I know that doesn't help."

 _No. It doesn't._

"Mr. Halstead?"

"Yes." he shook his head slightly, clearing all the unwanted images in his head.

"Can you identify any of these objects as belonging to your wife?"

She handed him her personal effects, now encased in plastic evidence bags. The few objects were immediately recognisable from all the times he had driven with her when they weren't yet so toxic for one another.

The packet of minty fresh chewing gum, which he knows she bought by the dozen. The sunglasses, which he knows to be her spare pair. And a pack of antibacterial hand wipes that he knows she keeps discreetly tucked into the glove compartment.

He ran his finger along the package through the evidence bag that held the description of the evidence and chain of custody.

Antibacterial hand wipes.

The case was white; they smell like vanilla. It's the same ones she always uses. _Vanilla_ , she loves vanilla. The packing made him remember more than he would like to reminisce.

All the times, he used to spill coffee in her car. All the times, she would get mad at him for making everything sticky in her car. All the times, he would lift her fingers from the console and kiss them, his lips tingling from the astringent.

A whole car, now reduced to a few plastic evidence bags.

He nodded as he examined each bag, then handed them back to the detective.

"Yes, these are her things."

She nodded. "There's one more." The detective passed a flat plastic bag into Jay's hand and, as he looked, his features relaxed in a sigh, everything fell into place. Piece by piece, like this was the missing piece to the puzzle, this was the clue, the answer to his question.

 _Why wouldn't she just gave those animals what they wanted?_

He understood.

But she wasn't supposed to have _it_. _It_ was supposed to be in his closet, in a safe. So, that means she must have...

 _Victims who get dragged like that during an auto theft are usually trying to hold onto something._

Now he understood why she wouldn't get out of the car even when she must have been ordered to, why she didn't let go when her life and safety was at stake, why she didn't comply to their orders, why she almost got her life beaten out of her.

She has only ever treasured one thing over her own life.

She'll give up her life, her entire existence for it. Without a doubt. And she must have.

He would recognise it anywhere.

"Mr. Halstead..."

But when he looked up all he could see was the clock on the wall.

 _Seven minutes past midnight._

Christmas is finally over.


	6. Chapter 6 : Perfect Little Accident

**Christmas**

 **-:- Perfect Little Accident -:-**

* * *

Too often, the thing we want most, is the one thing we can't have. That's how life is whether you want to believe it or not. That's how life keeps us wanting that one thing. Longing for that one thing. Craving for that one thing. Needing that one thing back because the betrayal won't bring us the peace of mind we plead in mercy for.

Desire leaves us heartbroken. Desire wears us out. Desire can wreck our lives. Desire can be strong, _deadly._ The thirst for desire can't be quenched but as tough as wanting something can be, the ones who suffer the most, are those who don't know what they want.

A bell is ringing. Just one bell. _Where is that sound coming from?_ He's still at the hospital, he's sure of it. He was talking to a detective. _Yes, he is_. She's right in front of him, studying him ever so closely.

 _So, why is that bell ringing?_

The familiar - _which never should have been in the first place_ \- slow tolling of a single bell rang and he looked over his shoulder.

It was all in his head. _No one's around_. Just the female detective, Det. Kate Beckett as she introduced herself, the smaller of the two detectives who enjoys harassing him with his wife's brutal attack and of course, himself. No one else was around and his brain now is in full capacity.

But the haunting sounds of the procession approaching the church continued and he's growing ever past frustrated with the tune. _He hates that sound._ He doesn't want to remember.

Seven minutes past midnight. Christmas is finally over now. Everything else was just beginning.

He held the edges of the plastic bag with immense care, almost reverentially, and turned it around to make sure he wasn't mistaken.

 _How did she get this?_

A flat rectangle of red woven cloth with frayed edges beamed up at him. _Greeting him._ Clusters of embroidered mistletoe - French knots.

 _How does he even know that?_

Someone must have mentioned it at some point - his sisters.

The lettering, large block letters in white - readable for a young child - divided by yellow stars.

 _Large, blocked and unfinished._

 **J * A * C ***

"You...recognise it?"

 _Anywhere._

 _In a heartbeat._

But it wasn't supposed to be in an evidence bag. It wasn't supposed to be held prisoner. It _was_ supposed to be in his safe at his apartment, hidden away like a treasure. Hidden away from Erin because it was the only leverage he had in their proceeding divorce, to keep her from pursuing their end. Because she had grew too attached to it, it was the one thing she valued most in life. It comes first before anything else and what happened to her - the attack - definitely atest to that.

Jay held it gently aloft between his fingers.

"It belongs to your wife?"

He nodded, and this time no one snaps at him to speak up. He nodded again, swallowed the lump in his throat. They waited and waited and kept waiting some more. They waited long enough for the larger detective who had been questioning him mercilessly - Esposito - to join them.

It was horrible of him for taking it from her, making her go through that anguish again. He can imagine her ruffling, tossing, shoving, pulling, yanking furnitures, clothes, papers, books, anything and everything in their home, looking for it in utter despair and frustration. But when she kicked him out that night, he had nothing and he knew if he had it, he'll have the upper hand.

 _So, how did she get ahold of it?_

Finally he spoke.

"It was...well, it would have been...it's apart of a stocking."

"A stocking?"

He nodded, "A Christmas stocking." he said, looking at the red felt.

 _Ask your mother...That's what I want._

And just like that, he knows how Erin had the stocking, his last hope in their marriage, in her possession. _Connection._ It's something they share sacredly. She knows him, knows everything about him so well, she knows him more than anyone on this planet - they've known each other for ten years, married for seven - so she must know that he had kept the stocking in his safe and had figured out the password to it. It's simple, really - what would have been their happiest day.

 _1-2-2-5-1-3_

She took the stocking, then took off.

 _What was running through her mind, then?_

 _Relieved that she could finally move on?_

She already has. She's supposedly been seeing someone, according to the detective.

 _Relieved that she had her baby back? Back to where he belongs?_

They were all still waiting for him. "She...umm, no, my mother, uh, does this...embroidery thing, I guess, and then she sews it onto a stocking...when it's finished."

 _It was never finished._

Esposito looked at him, his head angled. "I'm not following. I'm sorry."

He took a deep breath.

"I think this is what she-"

This is why she was dragged.

 _She's still holding on, Jay. You have to talk to her. You have to help her let go._

They're still waiting. _Again_. The air in the hallway was hot and thick. _Choking_. He took a wheezy breath, and closed his eyes, saying words he thought he'd never have to say again.

"We had a son."

It's quiet now. _We had a son._ He can feel their knowing exhalations, nodding ever so slightly. _We had a son._

"He was born premature."

 _We had a beautiful boy._

A myriad of scenes spun around him, his eyes burn to fight off the impending tears.

 _You need to sign it, Jay. There's not much time._

 _Don't make fun of me, Jay!_

 _Victims who get dragged like that during an auto theft are usually trying to hold onto something._

 _Get out! Out! How could you? That was all we had! It was his! Get out! Get out! OUT!_

 _It's a tire iron._

 _I_ _just don't want everyone standing around waiting for me to break or something._

 _Stop crying! Stop it, Jay! I can't stand you crying all the damn time! Stop! Please!_

 _Don't let her get too attached. It will just be too painful to let go._

 _Try again! Try again! After what we've been through, you want to try again!_

"His organs were underdeveloped. He lived for...six days."

He didn't have to meet their eyes to know what their faces looked like. _Solemn_. It's one he knows all too well. He can't look at them. He doesn't want to. His pain is still as raw as it was four years ago.

 _It's the Tragedy Olympics, baby edition._

They'll win. _Of course, they will._ They always win

"I'm very sorry."

The female detective gestured at the strip of red cloth. He's glad that it was her who had spoken. "So this is -"

"It's his. Yea. It's just, it wasn't finished. You can see here - the first stitch for the _'K'_. It, umm, it would have been his name."

 _Except they ran out of time._

The bigger detective, Esposito, frowned at the letters he had held up so they could see what he was trying to explain. "Ja-"

But Jay had cut him off before the detective could say the name, " _Jack_."

It's the first time he had said his son's name aloud - long enough for it to taste strange and bitter on his tongue.

 _Unfamiliar._

 _Jack._

 _Christopher Jack Lindsay Halstead._

They went back and forth with potential names for weeks and weeks. He had found two prospective first names while she considered hyphenated surnames tacky. She ratified for Jack instead. _Just Jack._ Not short for Jackson or Jacob or James, not a nickname. "Just Jack." she beamed which prompted him to question why she didn't like the suggestions he had given.

 _Robin or Jamie._

At her scowl, he kissed her and assured her that he liked the name just fine. _It's perfect._ Truthfully, he preferred _Christopher Robin,_ but she had insisted _Christopher Jack_ was the better choice.

"You want our son to be named after a cartoon character?" she pointed out.

"Who?" he asked, and she shook her head in amazement.

"You have five nieces and four nephews and you don't know who Christopher Robin is! The Hundred Acre Wood? Winnie the Pooh?" he shook his head to indicate his lack of recognition. "Honey, these are things you're going to have to know when your son is born."

Her tone was light, teasing, but it stuck with him.

So, he slipped out of the station at lunch break the very next day and bought Winnie-the-Pooh at Barnes and Noble and left it in the nursery for her as a surprise.

She was asleep when he got home later that night but when he crawled into bed, she rolled over into his arms and molded herself to him, her growing belly in between, and whispered, "I love it."

During the agonising six days their son lived, he read to him from the book while Erin slowly regained her strength.

Neither of them managed to speak at his funeral. Not publicly and definitely not to each other. But the priest read from _A.A. Milne, Promise me you'll never forget me, because if I thought you would, I'd never leave._

As he listened to the muffled sounds from the pews surrounding them, maintaining a grip on his wife's steel rod stiff back, the painful parallel washed over him like tears.

Jack - _the priest seemed to be saying but he couldn't hear much through his tears_ \- had been able to let go because he knew his parents would always remember him.

 _Promise me you'll never forget me, because if I thought you would, I'd never leave._

 _What would his son think of that promise now? Would it seem that, like so many others, it had been broken?_

But he never, never forget him. _Never_. Jack, his boy. _Unannounced, lingering at times._ The thought of him rises unbidden and fierce every day, every morning because his room was right across from theirs.

It was just too hard. So, he decided to just stop _remembering_.

And what he had learned from that is sometimes you don't have to do anything at all to break a promise. A promise can be broken just as easily by doing absolutely nothing at all.

The detective's voice cut into his thoughts, "Losing a baby like that must have been terrible. I'm sorry to hear that."

 _Canned words. Canned thoughts._

Like he doesn't know that already.

The thing is, they don't even know the worst part. But at least they've stopped asking questions.

"Thank you." Jay said briefly.

When he looked up, the expression in the detectives' eyes were familiar. _Pity. Understanding._ Like he gets them. Like he understood what they went through. It's how people look when they finally know.

"Can I keep it?" he asked quietly, still holding onto the evidence bag. The words were sticky in his throat.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Halstead, but it's evidence and we need to preserve the chain of custody."

 _Oh. Of course. He knows that._ He just figured, now that they know their story, know of it's sentimental value, priceless, they'd let him have it.

He kept his tone as even as he could, stroking the familiar embroidery through the plastic. "After the, um-"

"We'll take good care of it until the investigation's over." the detective said kindly, holding out a large palm and carefully he handed him the bag.

Like how he handed Erin Jack's body six days later.

 _Give him to me! Hurry! He needs me!_

It will always feel like it's too soon to say goodbye.

"Thank you."

He walked slowly down the hall, feeling disconnected from time and space. _The embroidery. The red cloth._ It should have just been in his safe. _Why does Erin have to be so stubborn?_ Now, it's in the hands of strangers. In a box. In a damp room. Locked away from it's rightful owners.

 _It was safe with him._

Déjà vu. He now has the same feeling he had that night, sauntering slowly through halls after halls while the rest of the hospital sped around him. _Exhaustion_. He knows he should sleep at some point. So, he decided to checkup on Erin, bumping into his brother on the way in instead, who confirmed that they'll be operating first thing in the morning.

"She's been dosed with medication to ensure that she sleeps through the night without any disturbances, but you can see her before she goes to pre-op." Will informed and he nodded. "Hey, go get some sleep. Take my office."

It was traumatic, a traumatic experience of loosing their son. So traumatic that Erin never recovered. Or maybe he never did too.

* * *

Sleep was thankfully dreamless. _Just pitch blackness._ Three hours of slumber and then the morning sun woke him, screaming _good_ _morning_ right in his face. But what it doesn't know is that this morning is definitely not a good morning. Erin's having surgery and the word _surgery_ scares him.

Surgery to set the compound fracture in her right arm.

Surgery to start the preliminary grafting on her right side.

Surgery to place a metal plate into her crushed cheek and orbital bone.

There will be more surgeries down the road.

This is just the beginning.

Waking up alone in his brother's office seemed oddly acquainted. He had slept alone at the precinct more nights than he can count, but he had also slept beside Erin for the better part of the last decade. Sometimes, like a phantom limb, he'd forget that she's not actually lying next to him.

Rolling over alone on the narrow bed, he rose and tracked the bustling halls to Erin's secluded room.

It's like he works here now. He didn't even have to look up at the signs anymore. He knows every wing, every block, every turn and every corner. He has them all memorised. He knows where all the departments are.

 _Fifth floor Obstetrics and Gynaecology._

 _Fourth floor Neonatal._

 _Eighth floor Paediatrics._

 _Second floor Radiology._

 _Thirteen floor ICU and the burn centre._

 _Tenth floor surgery._

"How is she?" he asked as the Asian doctor, he can't remember his name, was walking out of her room as he approached.

"Vitals are stable. She's awake. They're going to take her down for prep in a few minutes."

Her visible eye was closed when he walked in and despite the doctor's comment, he took a moment to study her face. The damage done underneath the bandages. _Her crushed cheek and eye socket_. He watched her chest rise and fall under the blanket. He doesn't know how aware she is, and the responsibility of telling her settles on him like a weight.

 _Does she know she's having surgery soon?_

 _Does she know the extant of her injuries?_

 _Has she seen her face?_

Reaching a hand towards her, intending to touch her good arm, he stopped midway when her uninjured eye gleamed up at him. Soft pale green, almost no hint of the dark forest.

"Jay?" her voice was soft. Her eyes were no longer angry.

 _Has she forgiven him already? Or was it just because of the medication?_

It's doing something with her eye.

"Hi." he adjusted the blanket so it's even, covering her up to the neck with just her good left arm exposed.

"Is...is Voight here?" she asked, just like the last time. He touched her hand lightly, just like the last time. Her fingernails short and stubby now. So not how she likes them.

"Ruzek says he's on his way." he said quietly. "It's Christmas. It's hard to get a flight last minute."

She blinked, lifting her chin in a half nod.

"Do you want to talk to him?" he pulled out his phone, gesturing that he could call Voight for her if she wants. He's not too sure he would answer his calls but he has to, considering the situation his daughter is in. The last time they spoke, Voight was beyond furious with him.

"No, I - it's ok. He's probably on the plane anyway."

They fall into a semi-comfortable silence, patterned with the beeping of the machines. A tinge of awkwardness sat between them. _Welcomed_. He's still her husband even if they're in a process of a divorce. He can be here without prejudice. They've seen each other at their best and worse. They know every inch of one another. They've shared literally everything with each other. They slept on the same bed for a decade. So this shouldn't feel like it's lacking dexterity.

 _Should he say something?_ Something comforting. He doesn't know what to say, to be honest. She's not looking at him. _What's running through her mind?_

He brushed her fingers again, a thin smile plastered his face. "Do you, umm, do you remember anything of that...night, Erin?"

Her eye remained open, glancing at him briefly before continuing to stare somewhere past him. Any readable expression within her features disappeared. "I don't know."

He knows her, and he knows her well. Maybe even more than she knows her own self.

He knows she never liked the crinkles by her eyes when she smiles. He knows she can't go to bed without a cup of tea and maybe that's the reason she talks in her sleep, but all those conversations are the secrets that he'll keep because he loves them endlessly. That's what makes her one of a kind.

He knows her like she knows him and he knows the effects of sedation, he knows the difference. There's something she's not telling him. _Perhaps the guy she's been seeing._

 _Who is he?_

He studied her face and waited. _Nothing_. He don't think she's going to say anything else. But like so many times in their marriage, he allows the lie to magically disappear. _Puff!_ He didn't even want to know in the first place. But he hopes this one won't fester like all the others.

Looking at her, he thought of the red embroidery cloth - the unfinished product, the unfinished name, their unfinished baby - thought of her stashing it in her Audi, refusing to leave without it.

Almost giving up her entire life for it.

They'll have to talk about it eventually. But, also like so many times in their marriage, he chose not to because it's easier to ignore and pretend.

 _And whom had he learned that from?_

"It's okay." he released her hand and gently touched her cheek. "Just - I don't want you to worry about anything until you're out, okay?"

Her lips curled in what could have been a smile if her face wasn't so swollen. "What if I don't...if I still can't remember what happened?"

Her eyes searched his. She wants absolution, he can see the plea in her eyes. _Mercy is the_ _only way out._ He wants absolution too, the forgiveness she's withheld since the night she slammed the door at their house in his face.

"If you don't remember, then you don't remember."

It's the best he can do. And it's the truth.

It doesn't matter if she remembers or not because the only thing that really matters right now is her wellbeing, that she fights through the surgery.

"I'm so tired, I..." her eye fluttered shut again. "Is it...Is it bad, Jay?"

"You're with the best doctors, Erin. They're going to take care of you. Everything's going to be fine." he reassured, leaning over to kiss her forehead and she blinked her eye open. "Adam."

"Erin." Alarmed, he tapped lightly at her cheek. "Look at me. Who am I?"

"No, I, I want you to...call him. Adam. Will you call him for me?"

 _Adam? Why?_

Of course, he's her partner.

He hesitated for only a second. "They're actually on their way here. He texted before."

She's making that half smile again or at least trying to and he ran his thumb lightly over her uninjured cheekbone. "I'm glad that you're..." he couldn't finish that sentence and she half nodded in acknowledgment. She understood what he was trying to say.

She's glad too.

His fingers lingered on her cheek. He's always loved the softness of her skin. He bites down the thought and tries not to think of her injuries.

"I'm glad...you're here...with me...even after..." her words were laboured but she sounds, underneath the deep breaths, like herself. And he smiled back at her.

"...Even after..." he looked up to see a pair of doctors, a nurse and the Unit at the window waiting. Kevin gave him a wave while Antonio scowled. Adam and Olinsky were there too. Voight will be coming soon.

"Oh, they're here." and he gestured for them to come in. "They're going to take you in now. I'll be right here when you wake up."

"Jay, wait!" she closed her fingers around his hand anxiously as he stood up from the seat next to the bed and he leaned over her, cupping her cheek not a second later.

"Hey, Hey, calm down."

Her voice was a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok. What did you want to tell me, Erin?"

Her voice was even softer this time; he had to lean in even closer to strain her words. "That is what I wanted to tell you."

 _She's sorry. He's sorry too._

Her eye was welling up with tears and he dabbed lightly at it with the back of his fingers.

"I'm sorry, Jay...I don't want to be mad at you anymore. I'm so tired of fighting...I just, I just...I..."

There's something else she wants to say, he can tell, but couldn't seem to find the right words.

 _Does she want to end this whole divorce debacle?_

Because he's more than okay with that.

It's easier to distance himself when she's not speaking, when he's just watching her sleep. But when she speaks - when it's her inimitable voice; it was that voice that first drew him to her - it's harder to pretend that it's anyone but Erin under the disfiguring bandages and swelling.

He brought his face closer to hers - well aware of the hovering bodies surrounding them - and stroked her cheek to calm her down. "I'm the one who should be sorry, ok. But, hey, I want you to relax now. Can you do that for me? Everything else can wait."

She nodded, very slightly, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Good."

They're making progress. For the first time in months, he smiled a genuine grin.

Turning around, he nodded at his ex-colleagues, and Olinsky squeezed his shoulder. Realising then that the only ones angry at him are Voight and Antonio.

"How you doin' kid?" he heard Alvin's calm tone before closing the door.

He shook his head. Erin's having surgery again.

* * *

 _ **Four and a Half Years Before**_

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

"Where is she?"

His brother stopped him with a hard hand on his chest as he sprinted into the lobby of Chicago Med.

They were closing in on a murderer, ready to bust his door down with SWAT on standby when his brother rang for the fifteenth time, yelling at him but he didn't hear anything after " _It's Erin..."._

"Jay, slow down. Jay!"

He pulled out of his brother's grip, wanting to run pass the line that denies outsiders like him any access.

"Is she all right? What the hell happened?"

"She, I don't know what happened, we were meeting with her CI and she just fell out of nowhere. She c-collapsed. I don't know. There was just so much..." It was Adam who spoke, fisting at his hair. He hadn't noticed him until now. By the red stains on his hands and clothes, he didn't have to finish that sentence, Jay knew what he meant. Distraught and frantic, Adam looked like he was about to vomit. "I'm so sorry."

"There was a rupture during the fall..." A female doctor added and they fell silent as the gnawing reality sets in.

"Can I see her?" The words scratched his throat and he sucked in a desperate breath of air.

"She's already under. Detective Halstead, we don't have much time. You need to decide what you want to do."

"What I want to do?" he grimaced at that and looked at her like she had just asked the world's stupidest question.

 _What does she mean what he wants to do?_

He wants his wife and child. He wants them both. Not just one. _Both!_ There shouldn't even be a choice to make.

"What are the options?" his brother rephrased.

"Ultrasound showed foetal activity but revealed an intrauterine haematomain on the left lateral position relative to the placenta. We could use an infraumbilical midline laparotomy to allow exploration of the peritoneal cavity..." her voice was patient but urgent. "It's risky and we _don't_ have time." she stressed on the _don't_ , looking at him as she does, "However, the surgery does sometimes allow the foetus to remain in utero longer. And since gestation is barely at twenty-three weeks, that could give the foetus more time to grow. But..."

He was waiting for that 'but'. There's always a but.

"...there's already significant bleeding in the uterine wall and the detachment's cutting off the only source of oxygen for the foetus. In that case, delivery is imminent."

He whimpered, covering his mouth with his shaking hands. His name is _Jack_. Not _the_ _foetus_.

He tried to pull himself together, tried to open his mouth since he's suppose to be the who's asking the questions. _He's the father, the husband._ He needs to be strong. Needs to not fall apart right now. For Erin. For their baby.

But he can't. Nothing is voicing out.

"The risks of the surgery?" his brother asked for him. They're all looking at him now. _When did all these doctors joined them?_ He doesn't enjoy the attention, feeling like an exhibition on display.

"The baby," He's glad she changed her choice of noun. "...could go into acute foetal distress resulting in intrauterine hypoxia and asphyxia. There are risks for the mother as well. Severe haemorrhage. Sepsis which could lead to septic shock. DIC. And if the blood loss cannot be controlled, an emergency hysterectomy may be needed. There's a risk of mortality."

"How high a risk?"

"A higher risk than most people would be willing to take."

"And if we deliver?"

"We transfuse her and stop the blood loss, but the baby will have to survive on its own. We will give corticosteroids to speed up the development of the lungs. Twenty-three weeks is the cusp of viability. And we won't be able to analyse if any congenital issues are present until after delivery."

He stood there frozen. Sinking in everything the doctor had been saying. _It's laughable now._ All the planning, the Consumer Reports on cribs, car seat, stroller, the baby-proofing expert they had hired as half a joke, the baby shower his sisters were organising, all the preparation, the certainty that they'd bring a baby home, and now he's powerless to make a decision.

His brother stood by his side, pinching the bridge of his nose, Adam to his left who's on the verge of a meltdown, the rest of the Unit had arrived some time ago, the head of Neonatal, her arms were folded, is waiting, staring. Everyone is staring at him to make a decision.

"If it were me, my child, I'd sign." Will said quietly and passed him the consent forms.

In disolate, he's sat on one of the empty chairs at the waiting room - Adam and Atwater had supposedly gone to get coffee over twenty minutes ago, Voight was somewhere, probably and most likely smoking a cigarette or an entire pack - with his head clutching tightly in his hands when the familiar voices intrude on the eerie silence.

"Oh, Jay! We came as soon as-how is she, sweetie?"

He sat up slowly. "She's in surgery. They're -"

"What happened?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, Mom. It's just, I guess sometimes these things just happen."

 _And with no reason._

She touched his hand. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks."

"Do you want me to try her mother, honey?"

He shook his head.

No need in dumping more stress on Erin with Bunny's presence, especially in a beyond stressful situation that they're now in.

"Jay." Kathleen's here as well, and she hugged him tight. He was too preoccupied to put his arms around her, but what he noticed when she pulled back was that there were tears in her eyes, in his eyes. In the eyes of his elder sister, the obstetrician, and that - more than anything - is what curdled the anxiety in his stomach into true terror.

Gripping the back of the chair, he tried to control his breathing. Telling himself to breath because somehow he has forgotten how to.

In front of him, his mother's broad, kind face was lined with worry. She fiddled with something in her purse; a corner of red fabric peeked up from her battered black leather.

"What is that?"

"Nothing." she stuffed it back inside her bag hurriedly. "I was just working on - it's nothing."

"Can we do anything?" Kathleen hovered.

"No." he shook his head. "We just have to let the doctors do their job."

* * *

 _Let the doctors do their job._ He thought about those words as he sat on the stiff chair in the waiting area.

Just like last time, four years ago, he waited endlessly, tiredly, anxiously. And just for a split second - a quarter of a second - all his anguish disappeared when he laid eyes the baby they wanted so desperately. _Jack_. He was absolutely breathtaking, mesmerised by the few hours old, three months too early bundle of joy inside the incubator. But just as quickly, he panicked because Jack was so tiny. So tiny. Tinier than any baby he've ever seen. And he was terrified to even look at him.

 _Jack._

He would've been four years old now. He would've been in kindergarten. He would've been playing with his cousins in the backyard. He would've been spoiled rotten by grandpa Voight. He would've been enjoying Christmas with his family and with parents who wouldn't have drifted apart.

He wants to hold him one last time...he would never let go. He had already learned his lesson.

Now, he can vaguely see the people who he had once worked with for years as he started down at his palms. Everyone's scattered across the waiting area. And he was surprised when Antonio came up to him, handing him a cup of coffee.

"Thank you." he said and Antonio nodded in response, going back to pacing the hallway.

There's something odd about Adam, he noticed. _Arms crossed_. He's flushed, fidgety, sitting alone by another corner. He's been avoiding him, not talking or meeting his eyes. And he doesn't know why.

 _Oh, of course! Adam's worried._ Erin's his partner.

 _Where's this dude she's been seeing? Why isn't he here?_

 _Has anyone informed him?_

Truthfully, he just wants to see this guy.

He's understandably jealous.

Jay looked down at his hands and at the wedding band that was still on his finger. He hadn't took it out since she slipped it on his finger on their wedding day.

 _What about him? Had he done enough? Had he done his job as her husband? Had he invested his all in their marriage?_

He felt fresh tears burn at his eyes and let them slide down his cheeks as he twisted the band around his finger.

"Hey, hey, Erin's going to alright. You have to believe that she will." Kevin patted his back but what no one can ever understand is that he knows Erin will be alright - she's a fighter - he's crying because he misses his son and Erin never allowed him to grieve in front of him.

They had grieved separately, alone. She believed that it's something they ought to better by themselves.

It's a shared lloss. They ought to grieve together, be strong for one another but she never wanted that.

 _Stop crying, Jay! Just stop! If you cry, I'll cry and I'm not in the mood right now._

 _Why aren't you crying?!_

He screamed back at her then. He was convinced that there was something wrong with her.

The sound of the doors opening tore his gaze from his hands and he was met with a exhausted Hank Voight. Breathlessly, he took a quick view of the waiting room and slowly his eyes lingered at him.

 _Bullseye!_

He felt his stomach flip about a dozen times at the look the man who treated Erin as his own daughter was giving him.

"What did you do this time, Halstead?" Voight said as he took a seat on one of the empty chairs. "I knew I shouldn't have left her alone!"

* * *

 _ **Three Years Before**_

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

"You could have called."

Her words slammed into him like the door he just released - hard - letting a gust of winter wind blow it close with a resounding crash.

"I'm tired. Let's not argue." His cheeks were burning from the central heat in the foyer, still cold under the skin. It's freezing midwest December and he had just stepped into their home not even a second before she started with her nagging. _Again._

It will be Christmas soon, and if that doesn't improve her mood, nothing will.

Typically, like always, she chooses to only address the first of the two sentences he had just spat. "Well, I'm tired too."

"Erin." he sighed. "I have been on the McCormick case for the last fifteen hours."

"And what do you think I'm doing when I'm at the station, Jay? Sitting in a rocking chair with a foetus, playing pat-a-cake and feeding it strained peas?"

There's a moment of silence and he cringed at her choice of words. She had just jabbed too close to the one thing they don't dare speak about, and he attempts to make a joke out of it even though he knows he should accept the night as a lost cause.

"You think this is funny?"

"No, Erin." he kept his tone as patient as possible, despite the headache growing at the bridge of his nose. "I think this is ridiculous. I said I was sorry-"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"You actually didn't say you were sorry. You said you were tired."

"I am tired."

"But not sorry, right?"

"Erin."

"Hey. I just want to be clear."

He looked at her up and down briefly. Her posture seemed poised and ready for a fight. He's anything but. "I'm going to bed."

"Because you're tired."

"Exactly."

"But not sorry."

 _He's sorry he came home at all._

The thought surprised him. He's not a man normally surprised by his own instincts. He's a thinker, a planner, and he paused for a minute to see if he can gauge when banter, or maybe nagging, started to turn into a real argument. They had been arguing less lately, but she's standing there, brows quirked, waiting for him to say something. He stepped forward and kissed her cheek.

"Goodnight."

"Are you punishing me for Quantico, Jay?" She called after him as he approached the staircase. He didn't turn around. "Because I'm not changing my mind."

 _Of course not._

He can hear her behind him, following, stomping purposefully, as he climbed up the stairs. Still not turning around. Not addressing her at all.

"Jay! Are you listening to me?"

He paused outside the door to their bedroom, stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. His mother always told him never to go to bed angry. But he's not angry, not exactly. He's just...tired.

"I have to be up in four hours, Erin. I need sleep. I need quiet."

She looks stung, taken aback, and he regretted his words for just a moment until she started nagging again.

"What about what I need? Do you ever think about that?"

 _Only everyday._

"Can it wait another night, please?"

"Of course it can. It's waited all this time."

He choose to read her sarcasm as sincerity and released her shoulders, opening their bedroom door.

Her movements were fast and furious as she readied herself for bed. Disappearing into the bathroom, she didn't come out until he's already under the covers. Most of the room was in darkness except for her bedside lamp. She slid under the covers, the rasp of silk against cotton sheets echoed. She's wearing that shiny, slippery red pyjamas that makes it impossible to hold onto her - not that he's planning on making any attempts tonight.

"Er."

"Now you want to talk?" Her voice sounds muffled.

"Your lamp."

"Oh. Of course."

His eyes were screwed tight against the glare, but he can still hear the pull and release of the chain as the room descends into welcome darkness and even more welcome silence.

He's nearly asleep, half of his mind walking through his duties for tomorrow - more like in a few fours - when he hears it.

Another sound escaped from her side of the bed and he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, willing away his annoyance.

 _What now?_

When he opened his eyes, there's just enough moonlight to see shadowy silhouettes; her face pressed into her pillow, not muffling everything.

"Erin." he sighed. It's so like her. He counted to ten, silently.

. _..7...8...9...10..._

"Erin, stop."

She ignored him.

Rolling onto his side, he reached across the bed to touch her shaking shoulder and she pulled away. His fingers slid off the silky fabric. Frustrated, he dropped back against his pillows.

 _What does she want from him?_

"I'm still doing this. I'm not changing my mind." The words are muffled by her pillow and he let them linger unanswered in the eerie silence and didn't try to touch her again.

He pretended her sniffles were white noise while his guilt was just exhaustion as he drifted off to sleep.

He didn't see her again for two days. They're on different schedules, different day-offs, both immersing in work, both working on _not_ _remembering_ and when they finally pass each other at the lobby of District 21 - he had to meet with a detective from VICE - he leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"Rain check?"

She shrugged, looking at her phone. "No. We're taking down a gun deal so I'll be at the station most nights. We'll just do it spontaneously next time we're both off."

He's somewhat taken aback, but pleased. "Well, that's...very understanding of you."

She slid her phone into the pocket of her coat. "Don't sound so surprised."

Her shoes were loud on the linoleum floor and her retreating back as she pushed the doors, heading out to the snow was a clear and bold statement.

 _She didn't change her mind._

She went to Quantico.


	7. Chapter 7 : Look What You Made Me Do

**Christmas**

 **-:- Look What You Made Me Do -:-**

* * *

We're all susceptible to it. The dread and anxiety of not knowing what's coming. _Waiting for the unexpected._ It's basically pointless in the end because all the worrying and all the making of plans for things that could or could not happen only makes things worse. So, let life take its course by it's own volition. Don't take life into your own hands. Because, sometimes, when we think we have finally figured things out, the universe throws us a curveball. And when that happens, we have to improvise with the resulting peace. We have to find happiness in unexpected places. _Like an unexpected, forbidden friendship_. We find our way back to the things that matter the most. _Like a family that's lost._ Because the universe is unique that way and sometimes it just has a way of making sure we wind up exactly where we belong.

It's early and the sun doesn't seem so insistent on presenting itself today, just hiding behind grey clouds and falling snow. Just another gloomy Chicago Christmas. _Well, day after Christmas Day._ It's basically still Christmas until New Year's. _So, yay him!_ Five more days of nonsense celebrations.

 _Coffee_. That's what he wants - _no_ \- needs. He needs another cup of strongly brewed coffee in order for him to be well-alert when Erin gets out of surgery. He wants to be right by her side, awake and there - in-body and in-mind. _Listening_. He's happy now because they're seemingly making progress with their strained relationship. It - _they_ might just be normal again. Though it hadn't been for the past years, it's okay because he really thinks this time, they can work things out without being at each other's throats.

 _It will be different this time._

Looking at his watch, it had just been an hour since they had taken her in for surgery. But it certainly doesn't feel like an hour. He's tired, it feels as though he's been sitting on this helpless plastic chair for almost half a day. _Twelve hours._ He's had an awfully long two days that now has blended into one. He's pretty sure he ought to be going insane right now because he's just so damn exhausted.

It's just Adam, Voight and himself now, waiting patiently or perhaps, impatiently for the doctors to come back with another update. So far so good, they had said, and he's glad. _Relieved_. She will get past this. They will. _Together_.

He knows they will.

And just as he was about to get up to go down to the cafeteria for another cup of much needed caffeine, he's being pulled aside by a young doctor - Dr. O'Brien as he introduced himself - probably and most likely fresh out of medical school, asking if he could spare a minutes to go through some information on Erin's operative report.

"Of course." he said, nodding cooperatively, "Anything. Sure."

And so now, he's following suit - grateful that he's being taken away from Voight's vicious and relentless stares - to another corridor to the left that's lined with more hard chairs.

"Please take a seat, Mr. Halstead."

He does and he can't help but think what more information about his wife do they want to confirm with him. He's pretty much told them everything about Erin's medical history.

She doesn't smoke.

 _Well, not anymore. Not since she was seventeen._

She _used_ to have a drug problem and prescription drugs were choice of poison.

 _And they said they'll monitor closely on that._

The overly enthusiastic young blood clicked his pen and smiled nervously, folding his hands on the file that's on his lap before beginning with the basics - personal profile like name, age, height and weight, and whether she has any known drug allergies or allergies in general to which he answered no.

For all the years he's been with Erin, she's basically immune to getting sick. Other then the occasional hangovers and that thing they silently vowed to never speak of, she's as strong as a mare.

Nodding, the young doctor mumbled incoherently as he scribbled something in Erin's file.

Jay raised a brow, "What was that?" He didn't quite catch what he was saying.

"Oh, no. Sorry. Sometimes I like to read out what I've written." he chuckled nervously and Jay returned the chuckle just so this doctor could stop being so overtly nervous. Because his nervousness is contagious and Jay can feel his heart racing with every pacing second that he's sitting here.

Then, Dr. O'Brien moved on to questioning about her past medical history. "She suffered a concussion?"

Jay confirmed with a sigh, "A mild concussion. Years ago." he added, "She was hit by a bicycle."

In New York. Trying to take down a pedophile ring alongside the NYPD.

He watched, after almost colliding with a cab, as her body flew off the ground and not a second later, hit the asphalt with a shattering thud.

He was so worried and he knew something was so terribly wrong when she didn't jump back to her feet.

It wasn't at all like her.

He can't ever forget that day, even if it's a good nine years ago. _Whoa!_ Thinking back, they were so young and naïve. Nine-years-ago-Jay wouldn't have ever thought his life would become... _this_.

 _Lonely_. A house that's under foreclosure. A wife that's filed for divorce. A child who's dead.

Nine-years-ago-Jay was innocently dreaming for the complete opposite.

"So, it says here, your wife's last surgery was October 1st of this year-"

"This year?" Jay looked at him in confusion. _No._ Her last surgery was four years ago. _September 4th, 2013._ The day their son was born. They must have it mistaken. He remembered a doctor asking whether she's had any surgeries in the last five years. _A c-section._ He was the one who it signed off.

No wonder they need a last minute confirmation. They must have her mixed up with someone else.

"Mmhm." he mumbled in confirmation and looked down at the file in hand, "We've gone over the reports the clinic had sent us on your wife's procedure and post-op care, nothing to contraindicate with today's surgery."

 _Procedure. Clinic. Post-op care._

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Jay asked, scratching the itch above his lip, even much more confused now.

This nervous wreck of a doctor is just throwing words at him. _Mindlessly_. He can't even grasp to comprehend anything that he's saying because it doesn't make any sense.

Not at all.

"The in-clinic abortion. It was confirmed by you, sir, that your wife-" he began gently until he was interrupted by Jay's sudden stance like he's on autopilot and he viciously ran his hand over his face.

 _Abortion?_

He swallowed thickly.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Pressing his palm hard against his forehead, he exhaled. "I did not confirm anything about an abortion."

 _What the hell is happening?_

 _She replaced Jack with another man's baby?_

 _How can she?_

O'Brien's now flipping through pages, stuttering, beads of sweat coating his upper lip. And Jay wondered how the hell did he even became a doctor in the first place if he can't even cope under this pressure. "But it says here that the father of - _Oh! Ooh!_ \- I think I should just really stop talking now. You know what? I'll go get Dr. Halstead."

 _The father of the..._

That means that they talked to him.

That means that he was here.

And he, himself, never left this hospital or the ICU floor since arriving yesterday morning and the only...

He opened his mouth, a ragged breath came out and just like that he felt his brain click. One by one, everything is falling perfectly into place. _Making sense of nonsense._ He just found the missing piece to this very complicated jigsaw puzzle.

 _She replaced Jack with another man's baby_.

He took deep steadying breaths, not wanting to look like a mad man on a mission, and he's now marching back to the waiting room. He almost - just as he almost took a right, he changed his mind because he knows not to deal with what he has to at a place of healing. So, instead he continued straight ahead.

 _Not right now, Jay. Not right now. Now isn't the right time. The hospital isn't the right place._

Sensible, that's the kind of guy he is. Considerate, he doesn't want to cause a scene in his brother's workplace.

He can feel his hands shake as he strode down the hallway, the ground spinning underneath his feet.

 _No, Jay, I can't. I can't try again. Not now. Not so soon. Okay?_

But it had already been a little over a year, then.

 _Rage. Disgusted. Anguished._ He doesn't even want to think about her anymore but she's there. She's always there. _In his head_. Etched. Engraved. Always and forever.

 _He's not a thing you can just replace to make me feel better!_

As life has proven in countless occasions, he's a pointless existence because the human race is a monotonous affair. And just like that devoid, he doesn't know what he's doing or whether he can even look at her anymore. Look at her without picturing what she'd done.

With no idea where he's going, he continued to put one foot in front of the other - mechanically - with some thought of perhaps finding some coffee or some sustenance beyond the thick air of pain and fear, when he turned the corner and froze in his tracks.

Like it was meant to be.

Like God knows he needs to do this, so he's granting him permission.

 _She replaced Jack with Adam's baby._

Pulling back his hand, he smashed his fist right into the face of his now former best friend with a loud and satisfying crunch.

 _She replaced his son with Adam's baby._

* * *

 _ **Two Months Before**_

(Flashback)

* * *

Adam blinked into a deep sea of bright repose whiteness the second the elevator doors parted. _Quiet_. It's awfully quiet in here, nothing like what he had expected - thick and unsettling - nothing like it's outside counterpart of racket, profanities and gruesome signs.

The shouting and the shaming are all muffled now by these four wall encasings but the cruel signs are all still imprinted in his mind. _Ignore them_ , he told himself. _How can she?_ And he was doing so well - in ignoring them that is - up until someone came right to his face, and screamed at him. "Stand up for your child, Dad! Be a man and don't let her murder your baby!"

It was personal. It had hit him close to home because they don't understand, it's not that easy to just convince her not to do it.

 _They don't know shit._

And he was so close to shoving his gun down that bigot's throat - rage toppling on top of another, he just needed to express his frustrations in the most mundane way - when he realised that he's only going to make things worse for the both of them.

Forget out possible charges, they'll be exposed. This will be uncovered. Voight will find out. Everyone in the department will know what they're doing here because it's a no-brainier and the last thing she needs right now is colleagues judging her, giving her the stink eye for making this particular choice. And the last thing he wants is to dump more stress on her because even though it hurts him that she's doing this, he still cares about her.

 _Adam, listen, I just...can't...we, I can't do it. Not with you._

She had said it like there was something so sickening with him, like he's some sort of monster and it had pained him that she didn't even realise it.

 _Not with you._

He would prefer that she didn't tell him because if she hadn't, he wouldn't even know, would never even have a clue, and he wouldn't be hurting like he is right now.

 _Not with you_ and he knows why and he's not competing - doesn't want to. She doesn't love him. Not like he does. And he understands. He never expected anything more.

He wonders if she's sad or scared like he is.

He doesn't know what she's feeling or if she's feeling anything at all but what he does know is anger is a feeble emotion because what's done is already done.

 _She's done it._

There's no taking back what's done.

With his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, he can very well say when he woke up this morning, he didn't expect to be here. _A normal day._ That's what he thought he'd be having. _A normal day._ Finishing up with last months' paperwork. _A normal day._ With his partner. Just a freaking normal day. But when she didn't show up for work this morning and when she wouldn't answer his calls and when Voight said she called in sick, he knew today will be anything but normal.

She told him she was going to. She just never told him when and he never dare ask, fearing that they'll only end up arguing because he knows her - once her mind is made up, there's zero percent chance she's ever going to change her mind. _Period_. So, when a private number called him not too long ago, that's when he knew.

It's today.

"She can't drive." the nurse at the front desk simply told him and he just nodded. "She needs someone to take her home but she's being stubborn-"

 _Sounds like Erin._

"-She listed you as her emergency contact and she said you knew..."

 _That sounds about right._ He knows, he just didn't know it was today since he would've been here with her, even though he doesn't really want to.

A larger door swung open after a woman in scrubs pin in a code, greeting him to another sea of whiteness. It's curtains after curtains and he's trying his best not to peek into the small crack, trying to not be nosey, but _whoever said trying is easy?_

When the nurse brought him to her station, peeling the curtains back, it was evident that she was just about to yell, only stopping when she looked at him with burning eyes.

 _Why is she even angry at him?_

He's not sure what he's supposed to say or if he should say anything at all. She's angry, that he knows, her antagonism is radiating into the haphazard space and he's quite certain that's the sole reason for this sticky atmosphere.

 _Shouldn't he be angry at her?_

Her red rimmed, hooded eyes only focused briefly on his face before she turned back to staring at the ceiling above. It's pretty evident that she's trying not to cry by the way she's blinking uncontrollably and clenching her jaws. _She wanted this._ She was the one who wanted this. He didn't force her to do anything she didn't want.

"Erin-" he jogged up to her side, looking over his shoulder to see that the nurse who had brought him here had long disappeared. He didn't have to ask what he's doing in a women's clinic and she didn't offer an explanation.

Dressed in her own clothes now, she's as pale as the white bedsheets, he noticed.

 _I'm going to do it._

That was all she told him last Tuesday night at his apartment before making an appointment - he presumed that she had made one since they're, you know, here now - and he had known what she meant.

 _I'm going to do it._

He never agreed to it, never said yes or okay. One discussion - it was barely a discussion - and that was that. After a while, they just forgot about why she was in his apartment and continued piling on the guilt.

 _I'm going to do it._

 _It_ , being the word they don't speak of, something vulgar and taboo.

A secret.

"What are you doing here?" her voice assailed him and she turned her body away from him. Purposefully not meeting his eyes. A soft sound escaped her then and he instinctually reached out to grab her arm in an attempt to help her but she shrugged him away. _Stop it._ And he complied, letting her go.

"I'm your...emergency contact." he feels ridiculous as soon as he said it. "The nurse said you needed a ride."

 _But what else is there to their relationship when there isn't even one?_

 _Boyfriend_ sounds all wrong for them, too meaningful for what they have. It's more like what they _don't_ have. They're not _together_ , that's for sure. Not an _us_. But they are together in this situation. Together, they created this.

 _Partners_ , that's much more accurate. Partners in crime.

He didn't beg her to reconsider because he couldn't do it, couldn't pressure her to go through with it when she clearly doesn't want to and even if she wants to, she doesn't want one with him. _Not with you._ She had made that very clear. He couldn't make her suffer. So, the next morning when she wasn't lying beside him anymore, he allowed himself to finally cry. _Helpless_. That's a secret he won't tell anyone.

Though she'll never admit to it, he knows she's still so deathly scared and traumatised with what happened to Jack. Four years and he can still see the raw and sheer agony in her eyes like it was yesterday.

"Just - help me get up." she croaked, and he does, easing her down from the bed as carefully as he can.

She leaned heavily on him when they walk out. The doctor gave him prescriptions and instructions and he hears _normal_ and _to be_ _expected_ and thinks they fucking know anything about his life.

He called Voight on their way to her apartment, of course, not telling him about this but telling him that he had a family emergency he needed to tend to.

It wasn't much of a lie, Erin is his family.

He knelt behind her in the bathroom at her apartment and he pulled her long hair away from her face as she heaved into the toilet.

Now, he's trying his best to recall what the doctor was saying on the expectations of the first twenty-four hours because right now, he's kind of having an internal freak out.

 _Because is this normal?_

 _Is she suppose to be vomiting her guts out?_

But every time he thought he could help her to bed and let her sleep it off, she arched her back over the commode. So, he dampens a washcloth every time and gently wipe her face. His anger has now dissipated with her pain. _Yin and yang._ Melting and merging into just pain. Both of their's.

"Take it easy." he murmured.

After the third time, he folded a towel in front of the bowl to pad her knees, not wanting them to hurt.

 _She has hurt enough._

After the fifth time, she's quiet, breathing in deep laboured breaths and she slumped against the wall. He glanced at her white, exhausted face, the trembling hands on her lap and he can't help but stare at her midsection. It's empty now.

"You ready to get up?" he leaned in close, speaking softly because he knows her head had to be throbbing so badly.

"I don't think I can..." her voice is so unusually hoarse, almost unfamiliar now.

He recognised what she was asking for and so he slid a hand under her knees and another across her shoulders, lifting her as slowly and carefully as he can, not wanting to hurt her. Even then a moan escaped her.

"That's normal." he repeated what the doctors had said to him on autopilot and she snapped at him, "You think I don't know that."

When he set her down on the bed, pulling the covers over her shaking frame, she quickly turned away from him and automatically curled her legs in towards her middle. She did not meeting his eyes at all. Not even once. Not since the clinic but even then she didn't. _Was it him? Did he say something? Do something? Why can't she look at him?_ He laid down behind her and ran a tentative hand down her arm.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" he asked softly.

"Being nice to me." she mumbled, squeezing her eyes closed - not even caring of the fact that it's really the exact opposite of what she needs right now, and if it's unfair to him after all he's done for her.

He didn't listen, just reached out to touch her cheek, _it's cold_ , he thinks and just as quickly she turned her body further over the edge, wincing at her sudden movement. "Please, stop."

"You know, the doctor said your hormones would be in flux as they reset-"

"Really? You think I don't know that? This isn't my first!"

Only this time, she caused it. _Willingly_. She made this choice.

She doesn't want to think about _him_ because _he's_ not this, not what she had done. _He_ was alive. _He_ was different. But in the end, they both just end up the same. _Dead_.

Her stomach feels hollow, there's a heaviness in her throat, and she thinks she'd like to provoke a fight to make herself feel better. It's better than crying. Anything is better than crying because she doesn't deserve sympathy right now. _Oh, no, she doesn't._ But that's exactly what Adam's giving her. His brown eyes, like a lost puppy read sympathy.

"I'm gonna get you some water. Just try to...relax. Ok."

She took a sip from the cup he had passed her, "I'd rather have something stronger."

"Yea," he smiled at her wearily, "Maybe hold off on that for now."

 _It's what got them here._

He took the glass from her hand and straightened the pillows underneath. "Lie down."

She flinched when she tried to settle again, the cramping spread through her body and he offered her the amber bottle from the clinic.

She shook her head.

"Take the painkiller, Erin. Don't be a hero."

But she wants to feel this, _pain._ Maybe even need to, actually. He would never understand that.

 _She deserved this._

"Erin."

She shook her head.

"Sex and alcohol aren't the only things that numb the pain. They make actual medicine for that."

She shook her head again.

Gently, careful of making any sudden jolts, he lay next to her. Discarding the painkillers on the nightstand. He knows her muscles are cramping uncomfortably again when she shifted even further away from him and he's surprised that there's still more space for them to distance in this bed.

 _How far away from him does she want to be?_

"Erin-"

"You don't have to, okay? Be nice. I know you didn't - you didn't want me to-"

"Just rest, okay. We don't have to talk about it right now." he smoothed some of her hair away from her face. It's damp with sweat and her skin is cool to the touch.

He thinks she needs the painkillers.

"Erin..."

"Stop, Adam, just _stop_ , I can't have you - _loving_ me right now." she said the word like it tastes bad.

"I can't help it."

"Please..." she whispered the word into her pillow and he acquiesced, stopped talking and just lightly stroked her arm. There were goosebumps scattered all over her arms, her lips so pale, almost ghostly white.

"Stop..." her eyes were more than bright, he realised, they're glassy, almost vacant when she looked at him, pleading for him to stop _this_ \- something that must be so wrong because she looks mortified - and he made no attempt to move his hand.

This time, she didn't protest. He knows it's because she needed this just as much as he does. Finally, she could get herself to grant him this.

 _Comfort._

* * *

For just a second after his fist landed on his former best friend's face, everything went silent. The world stood still. Maybe even in slow motion. Spinning even slower than it already is. Because it definitely feels that way. The gasps, the way Adam fell to the ground, the raised voice are all winding very slowly right in front of him. But then, just as quickly, all hell broke loose.

It's his voice that he hears first. Loud and angry and filled with profanities. Then, he's being shoved back against the wall by a security guard, yelling at him to calm down while the other and a nurse hauled Adam to his feet.

 _Who the hell is he to tell him to calm down?_

"I can call the cops and have you arrested, sir."

It was only then that he realised he had actually spoken that question out loud.

An animal howled. That's him, he realised. He's never felt this much indescribable rage before and he certainly doesn't enjoy feeling this way. He doesn't like this side of him because he's not this - he's calm and collected.

It's just that he's angered by the fact that she replaced Jack with his baby. _Jack_. Their Jack.

 _How could she have done that?_

 _Why?_

He isn't even really bothered that she's sleeping with Adam - that's the least of his concerns - because they're separated.

 _Ok, no,_ he'd be lying if he said he doesn't care. He cares because it's the two people whom he never thought, not a day in his life, would hook up or start a relationship or... _whatever_.

Because Erin didn't even like him to begin with. _Annoying and childish_. And she only put up with him since he _was_ his best friend.

 _Was_ , being the operative word.

Jay strained against the hand on his chest, his hand throbbing so violently, he's craving to break something. Adam stood slack behind the other officer's arm, fingers pressed to the split on his cheek.

The chatter around them rose, accompanied by accusatory whispers and not-so-subtle pointing.

 _"He's mental."_

 _"Goodness! He's crazy!"_

 _"Look at him! He's foaming!"_

 _"He needs to be admitted!"_

The officer's hand was firm on Jay's chest when he tried to push past it, only to find that he couldn't.

"Jay, listen, man, I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you. Believe me. But Erin...she, she didn't!"

Like he's ever going to fall for that crap.

He refused to look at him and just focused on the guard's advice - to calm down. _Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale._ Inhaled...But it's not working because it seems as though he's just inhaling vigorously at the air. He still can't breathe.

"Erin was scared that-"

"Don't you dare say her name to me!" he let his temper get the better of him, then. "It was you! You gave her the brightest idea to take off in the middle of the night and she got the hell beaten out of her for her car."

 _It's unclear as to where she was heading to._

The detectives had told him yesterday.

Another piece to this stupid puzzle has been solved. He's surpassed all his problem-solving and critical thinking abilities.

 _Why did he ever quite being a detective anyway?_

 _Oh, that's right._ Voight got to his head.

 _You go march up to Lieutenant Reagan and you tell him you quit._

It was either never seeing Erin ever again or his job and of course, he chose to give up the latter because he can't live without Erin.

Because Voight knows he only treasures two things in this world - the love of his life - Erin and being a police officer for the city of Chicago. Without both, he's no man, he's nothing and Voight knows that.

 _You give him your badge and your gun and you walk away. You owe her that._

The shock that crossed Adam's face _almost_ made him feel guilty for saying it that way - blunt and raw, just ripping off the bandaid.

 _Almost_.

"Was it you? Did you tell her to take off last night?" he struggled against the officer's restraining hand and found his arm jerked behind him.

Silence.

Jay grimaced at that. "Perfect. That's just perfect."

"I'm so sorry."

Even the timbre of his voice filled him with extreme outrage. He's going to keep his mouth mouth shut. Because even though she has done the unthinkable, he's going to keep her secret, he's not going to blurt it out in spite. _He's not like her._ Because the entire hospital doesn't need to know. Because God knows everyone has an opinion.

Swallowing hard, he could barely hear anything through the sound of his blood pounding in his ears. "Just stay away from us. Just turn around and get the hell out of here."

"Jay-"

But before he could say anything else, Will arrived, thanking the guards, assuring them that he'll keep the situation under control. Jay breathed heavily with a bellow of sorrow and fury, trying to calm down as a nurse, he recognised from Erin's room, timidly held out an ice pack.

"I'll take it from here." Will gestured them down the hall and into an empty conference room.

He doesn't know what he's doing, following his brother, can barely feel his limbs through tingling adrenaline, all he knows is that he wants to run.

 _Run far away._

The nurse hovered over his hand, that's still healing from yesterday's battle with the concrete wall as he sat down, trying to place the ice pack over his swelling hand.

He brushed her off again.

Will stalked across the room, angrily. "Stop being a hardhead and put that ice on your hand." he scowled and Jay took the cold pack from the nurse, who looks grateful to be able to leave now.

She closed the door behind her and he's now wishing that she didn't have to leave because he also doesn't want to be here.

Will looked slowly between Jay, who's slouched angrily at the far end of the table, holding the cold blue pack on his throbbing knuckles, and Adam, who has a piece of gauze pressed to the split on his cheekbone. Jay looked away from the spots of blood on Adam's shirt. _Best friends_. He's never hit him before. _Never_. Now, all he wants is nothing more than to bash his fists into his skull.

And he's sure he'll get pleasure out of it.

 _He's not a sadist. He's a realist._

Will sat down, dragging the chair back heavily. "You want to tell me what's going on here?"

 _Not really._

He grit his teeth, sinking the cold pack harder onto his bruised knuckles until the pained mixed with the numbing effect from the cold. With his brother's eyes piercing through his thawed skin, he realised his brother was actually addressing him for a response.

"He got Erin pregnant."

Adam's eyes flickered to him - shocked, maybe because he didn't know that he know - only briefly before he turned away in shame.

Even his own words astonished him. He probably shouldn't have said it. But well, it's Will. There's nothing to hide from his brother. He'll eventually find out anyway.

The shade of brown that looked nothing like his blues, because Will got their mother's eyes, were soft with pity. "Jay-"

Pity and something else.

"You knew."

Acid stung his throat.

"It was in her file. But I didn't know Erin has set her standards so low."

"So I was just the fucking fool, walking around this damn hospital while every doctor here thinks I'm the pathetic loser husband."

"No, Jay, it's not like that." his brother said in a failed attempt of assurance.

He can't believe this. After everything he has sacrificed to try to make things work with her, after their so called progress, their entire foundation has been built on a lie.

She replaced Jack. She replaced him.

Feeling extra petty and shitty today, the urge to pour salt on a bleeding would had him begging on his knees. "Erin's smart, anyway. Did herself a favour because it's no surprise that he'd be a terrible father."

"You're an ass." Adam shook his head, standing quickly like he's been burned.

He knows that was harsh, like kicking a dog when it's down, but to be honest, he's not so concerned that he's basically hurting his feelings.

He's hurting too.

"And what are you, huh? Because you're no Saint, Ruzek! I know she took off to do God-knows-what at your suggestion in the middle of the night and almost got herself killed."

He's not stupid, he knows what middle of the night calls are for.

Running his hands through his hair, he fists them, sitting back down with a deep sigh. "Erin and I" - _what we had_ \- he shook his head, "it didn't mean anything to her."

"And what about you?"

 _"I love her."_

Jay can see Will raised his eyebrows slightly at that and he too has the same reaction. _Shocked. Dumbfounded. Flabbergasted._ He feels stupid.

It was soft, almost a whisper, like he, himself, didn't want to hear it, let alone believe that he does.

His cheeks burn. _How dare he!_ As if Adam is capable of loving anyone. He looked up at him then, eyes enormous with pain and Jay leaned forward in his chair. "If you say that to me again, I won't be held responsible for my actions."

He stacked across the room and yanked the door open. "I don't want you near her."

They're partners, _yes_ , but it's not like she going to work any time soon.

Adam turned to him, stumbling over his words. "Jay...You can't be serious."

"Does it look like I'm jokin' around!"

And Erin will be angry at him for controlling whom she can and cannot see, but he's still her husband.

"She would want to see me."

All the magnanimity he had just built up for Adam's teeters that's on the edge of collapse, it's something about his insolent face - that he dares to look _worried, broken, hurt, concerned_ , when in actuality, if you really think about it, he's the reason why Erin almost died.

"I don't care."

* * *

 _ **Two Months Before**_

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

She opened the door to his apartment with her set of keys. No knock. No warning.

"Jesus, Erin, I could have been naked." he changed his tone, leering a little. "And, you know, I could be, if you give me a minute-"

But she ignored the innuendo. "I'm going to do _it_."

"Do what?" he set down the beer in hand and looked at her. He thinks he knows what the _it_ is but he needs to hear it, hear her say _the_ _word_ because only then it will be true.

"Don't make me say _it_ , Adam." she challenged, shaking her head. "We've already discussed this."

It hurts him that she doesn't even acknowledge the fact that he had no say in that particular discussion. There definitely was no _'we'_ , it was all _'I'_.

"I don't wanna explain myself again..." she sat down heavily on the couch beside him, still in a jacket that smells like her.

Idly he noticed the gold clip thingy in her hair, holding it half off her face. He was there when Jay bought that for her. She used to wear her hair like that a lot, pulled back with a clip. He recalled with a grimace, that Jay liked it that way.

He's silently nursing his beer, eyes glued on the TV ahead. So much for a quiet evening.

"Adam, it's what's best for everyone and you know it." She won't ever admit it but he can hear the desperation in her voice for him to listen to her, to agree with what she's going to do. _Support_. And he suppose she's right, it is what's best for everyone.

 _Her, him...Jay._

"And Jay, he can never know about-" She didn't or couldn't or wouldn't finish that sentence and she didn't have to. He knows what the missing word is; _us_.

 _There is no us._

She reached for the throw pillows on the side of the couch that she pretends is hers sometimes and straightens them automatically.

"Erin." he touched her hand lightly. "Jay's my best friend. Hell, I'm the only friend he's got right now and I don't want to hurt-"

"And you really think telling him about _this_..." she spat, gesturing the space between them. She's never going to say _us_ , she's never going to describe them as _us_ , just _this_ , like it's something so icky and repulsive. _To her, it may be. To him, it's not. "_...won't. He hurt me-"

"He hurt you, yes. He betrayed your trust, yes. He shouldn't have done that, of course. And now you two are separated, and _this_ may or may not be okay if _this_ isn't with me. But still, _this_ is much worse than what he did to you."

He thinks. He thinks it's much worse. But, really, _who cares about what he thinks?_

His words hang in the air and he can see the pain on her face and feels guilty all over again. _This_. _Them_. _Us. What are they doing?_ They're not kids anymore. It's so like them to dance somewhere between joking and hurting each other, never quite sure which side of the line they're on. And now, the expression she's wearing is making his stomach twist.

"Sorry, look, Erin-"

He can see the second her expression changed - undecipherable - and she slid her jacket off her shoulders. "Didn't you say something about getting naked?"

"What?"

"Na-ked." she repeated herself. Slowly this time, as if he's hard of hearing. She's unbuttoning her shirt and staring at him while he's doing everything that he can to not meet her eyes, to not fall into her trap.

A peek. A mental slap in the head. He swallowed as the skin of her chest glistened at him.

"Erin-"

"This offer expires in thirty seconds."

He whisked his shirt over his head and not for the reasons she probably thinks, not because he's so hard up that guilty miserable women turns him on - _okay, maybe this particular woman turns him on all the time_. But because he knows her and he knows this sex kitten act is her way of dealing with her guilt. He'll give her that so he take her to his bedroom, shucks off his clothes and watch her slide her jeans down her legs.

"It's not like I can get any more pregnant."

She pounced, insists on being on top, riding him fast and almost angrily. He can't complain because he always liked the way she makes him feel.

 _My god the way they feel, the way they fit, he knows she feels it too._

And it's still true. _Always_. But the rote way she flexed her thighs, the almost mechanical movements of her hips - he knows it's guilt she's feeling with lust, a heady combination in which he's a particular expert.

He knows she needs this release.

 _He knows her._

Afterwards when he tried to pull her into his arms she just pushed him away and flop back against the pillows. She folded her hands behind her head and stared up at the ceiling.

Resigned, he found himself mirroring her pose. They can be as close as two people can be one minute and then this - distance. Ruefully he noticed there's enough space between them for Jay to join them.

 _Wouldn't that be a picture!_

An accurate one.

"Jay will never know, right. So, you don't have to feel guilty."

"Shut up." she said disgustedly and he can practically _hear_ her rolling her eyes.

They stare at the ceiling a while longer. Her annoyance radiated off her as strongly as her guilt and he can't help but wonder why she's still here.

Tentatively he asked, "Are you going back to your apartment, or..."

She didn't look at him. "Your bed is more comfortable."

Their beds are identical, but he'll take it.

"Then if you don't mind, I have to be up at seven and I need some sleep."

They both do.

"Suit yourself."

He flicked the lights off, and the room fell into darkness. "Don't hog the blanket this time."

"I'll see what I can do for you."

He smiled to himself when he woke up, shivering, he's sprawled naked across the fitted sheet, nothing at all covering him. Erin, as usual, has pulled the blanket tight across her.

It's still dark out. He rested a hand on her hip, warm even under the thick covers, and she turned, still asleep, and settled in his arms. He checked his clock as carefully as he can, so as not to wake her. It's just past three, four more hours before he needs to be out of here, which means that even if it embarrasses him a little he can rest his cheek against her shining hair, breathe in her scent, place a hand to her stomach that will never grow and pretend.

She wasn't there when his alarm rang at seven.

* * *

Walking is simple, free, liberating even. And that's exactly what he's doing.

Walking.

He kept walking, striding until he can't no more. Not tired, he's just really sad.

 _Does she even understand the significance of his pain?_

 _Why he's so bothered by what she had so callously done?_

Jack...

He can't say it anymore.

Leaning against the wall, seeking support on the cold plaster for his trembling legs. Hunched over, hands on knees, he's really finding it particularly difficult to breathe. _But why?_ He's breathing, he thinks, but oxygen doesn't seem to be reaching his quivering lungs.

 _No! You're not going to Quantico, Erin!_

 _You don't get to make decisions for me!_

 _Fine. We should at least talk about it then._

 _Yea, so you can try and talk me out of it. No. I already agreed to the offer anyway._

He was shocked beyond his mind. She didn't even bother to discuss this decision with him first. It's not like it's an FBI field office here in Chicago, it's seven hundred and thirty miles away, in Quantico, on the East Coast. Hours and hours away.

And then suddenly, without any warning, he's crying.

Crying like he hasn't in as long as he can remember. It's not the way he cried yesterday - frustration, resignation and fear. It's something else entirely, it's scary - deep, static and bone trembling.

He wants to escape from this - _whatever this is_ \- secret. It's one more thing she didn't tell him. No surprise that she's back to keeping secrets. They used to tell one another literally everything. Anything and everything - whatever it may be, she'd tell him. From struggles with her cases to what she had for lunch. Now, it's just one more on the list, one more weight on his shoulders and he's drowning in it.

 _You wanna go, then go! Actually, you know what? Go ahead, go now!_

And then he's seeing her again as she was on the stairs at their home, seeing her through a haze of rage and pain.

 _If you're so desperate to leave for that damn FBI job, fine, you can go right now!_

The way she felt under his hands as he wrestled her from the stairs, breaking her grip on the accents of the banister.

She was holding on so tightly, her voice high and panicked.

 _What are you doing, Jay! No!_

He was out of breath when he slammed the door, it was exhausting - what he did - it took some real physical effort to pry her fingers off the banister and carry her over the threshold. He propped shaking hands on the knob of the door and listened to her pained sobs.

 _I'm not changing my mind. I'm going whether you like it or not. You can leave me out here all night, I don't care! But I, I'm going...I'm going..._

Later he found out from her that she can't stand to _remember_ and Chicago wasn't helping her in that department of _not remembering_. She thought, then, running eight hundred miles to another State, to a whole new environment was the only way.

Boy was she so wrong because that obviously didn't work, because she came back worse than ever.

He let go just enough to push off the wall and started moving again, blindly, to anywhere but here.

 _Walk away, Jay. It's what you do best._

Parting a sea of white coats and doorways blurring, his purposeful stride swallowing one hallway after another. Faintly sticky linoleum and three sets of stairs later, he's now gripping the rails and squinting until he can't see anything anymore. He all but collapsed on the steps, his head in his hands.

 _Erin._

She's here. She's everywhere, and he can't think.

 _Erin._

Upstairs, she's there, two floors above, he can still see her. All swollen and broken and sad.

After this...secret, he shouldn't even be thinking about her anymore. But it's all he could do.

 _Why?_

He thinks of her body - mostly arcing away from his at first, a challenge. The way she bent over him in the NICU rocking chair, arms inside out along his. Touching him with her lips and nothing else. So many secrets and so much unsaid between them, but this - this he hadn't anticipated.

He thinks of their first time together after their tragic loss.

Her hesitation that first night, almost seven months later. She initiated the caress. She kissed him. She wanted him, she said.

It was okay. _Serviceable_. It was different. _Conscious and weary_. It was never the same as it was. It was like she was terrified that a life might procure as a result.

Her skin was cold over warm, rain-chilled when he first touched her, covering explosive heat. He peeled back damp layers and curled his fingers through familiar satin. The motion of his hips was rote, painting patterns a hundred times old. Yet there was an unspoken awareness, painful.

 _A memory of their creation._

It was more than mental, she was larger than life under his hands, twin swells of softness filling his palms, iron strength in the thighs that clenched around him. She took up more of the bed. She took up more of him. He was exhausted afterwards, and her cool fingers wound their way into the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck.

 _I love you_ , she whispered into sweat-salt skin and he buried his face in sheets that didn't smell like her and said those words back.

It was still raining outside. Her long caramel hair, darker when its damp, was everywhere.

Afterwards, she curled into him like a question mark, seeking his heat, and he wrapped a numb arm across her back like he was supposed to. It felt swollen, heavy, like it didn't belong to him. She was facing away from him when he woke up.

He thinks about that room in a clinic, erasing all traces of a secret he's never meant to know.

 _Was Adam there? Holding her hand? Did he take her home?_

It was just two months ago.

 _He's going to puke._

He thinks about the last time he saw her crying for their son. It was the night after his funeral. At their home where they were finally free from guests. She hadn't cried all day, angry she was, at Bunny, of course.

 _Don't you dare call him that, Bunny! Don't you fucking dare because I can and I will kill you if you call him that one more fucking time!_

She's strong, too strong sometimes and that scares him. She hides, always hiding behind that mask.

She gripped him with both hands, the blanket that's hugging her racking shoulders slid away; he reached for it when he felt her shiver and finally, tented it over the both of them. Inside the protective white canopy, time disappeared. It's dark and wet and he just held her tight, absorbing her tears and shedding a few of his own into the thick curtain of her hair, and content - not sure whether from the grief or gratitude that she's finally showing emotions again.

 _Jay, please, tell her to leave. I, I can't have her here. I don't want her here. She ruins everything._

After a length of time, he's not sure where to begin to measure how long they've been compressed, they emerge together from the blanket cocoon, damp and slippery. He wiped her face gently with whatever was handy and went to get a glass of water to replenish the fluids she'd lost. She drank deeply, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.

"Sorry." she said, her voice croaky and lost, looking up at him from under spiky lashes.

He brushed damp hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear. He didn't tell her not to apologise, tired maybe, of censoring what they really mean. "It's okay." he said softly.

That was the last time he saw her cry.

The first, at the hospital when she woke up. Then, at the Clerk's office where they signed their son's death certificate. Last, the night after his funeral.

He checked his phone.

Seven missed calls. He dialled the familiar number.

It's not Christmas anymore, but that alone wouldn't worry his mother.

"Jay? Oh, Merry Christmas, sweetie. We've been so worried. Will told us. How is Erin?"

He can't say those words. Merry Christmas. "Yea, you too." he managed. Then exhaled hard, not sure where to begin. "I don't know, Mom. I, I, umm, I don't know..."

"Oh, honey," his mother said, just like the last time. "Tell me what I can do to help and I'll be there."

"I don't know." he said, for the umpteenth time in the last day and a half. They're lost, forever broken. He don't know if he can get past this.

He filled his mother on Erin's accident as briefly as possible, keeping the more graphic and gory details to himself. "I don't know, Mom. I'll keep you posted."

 _He doesn't know what he can do or how can he tell someone else what to do when he doesn't even know?_

He waited until he could get his breath back, realising then that he've been holding his breath. But she's alone in there, cold, scared and in surgery, and it all seems wrong. For all the anger and the secrets and the lying and the things he may never get to say, it still all seems wrong.

 _Is it so hard for you to be here, Erin?_

It's too much and he allowed the wall to do the hard work of holding him up.

 _It's hard on me too, you know! I lost him too!_

He hadn't had time to process the stocking, that scrap of red stitched heartbreak - Jack.

 _Give him to me! Hurry! He needs me!_

Now it's all tangled up, knotted along with this thread of new information. He could call it game changing, except he lost track of this miserable game they've been playing too long ago to remember where exactly they stand.

Erin - pregnant.

 _His best friend's child._

More secrets he doesn't know yet, he's sure there are more. There are always more, hidden like a pirate's treasure.

He checked his watch.

 _8:57am_

It will be hours, so he'll just sit here, on these steps.

 _He's okay._

But, no, he's not. It's not a betrayal to him but one to their son. He can't get over the fact that she had replaced Jack. _Jack, their sweet boy_. . . .And she killed _that_ one too.

* * *

 ** _Four and a Half Years Before_**

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

"Erin!"

She woke like a pouncing Siberian tiger. A choking gasp, and her eyes flung open to display wide, misty and fearful orbs. Her arms and legs were angry, almost clawing and he leaned in, trying to protect the incision on her abdomen.

 _She has hurt enough._

"Er, shh, shh, everything's going to be okay. Just try to relax-"

 _Gravel_. She sounds dreaded, panicked, words flowing over one another too quickly for anyone to comprehend. "I should have stopped working! I shouldn't have been on my feet! Oh God! Where's Jack? Jay! Where's my baby?"

Shock, they said it's what she'd wake up to. _Frantic and in hysterics_. And she is - in shock that is. Sodden with pain and tears. A devastating state of reality.

"No, Erin. No. Stop." he pressed his fingers to her lips. "You did everything right. Dr. Devlin said you were fine to work. This isn't your fault."

Sobbing in deep raspy breaths, she buried her face in her hands. " _This is all my fault._ "

She didn't listen to him. Or maybe she just couldn't hear him over her loud and pained sobs.

She's groggy and hysterical and inconsolable until they sedated her. And for a while he thinks they're all going to be okay. The three of them.

 _Mom, Dad and son._

Then, she's uncharacteristically smaller - though she is small, she always carry herself tall - in the expanse of the white hospital bed, gown loose around her shoulders.

"Is he..." she said softly, eyes watery and blank.

"He has a fighting chance, Erin. He's small-" _oh, what an understatement that is_ \- "But he has a chance."

"I need to see him."

"Erin, he's okay." he whispered, not sure if he's trying to comfort her or reassure himself.

"Please."

"Erin."

 _Don't let her get too attached..._

"Please, I need to see him, Jay."

All of his protests and the doctor's advice fade away.

 _Okay._

She held onto him, strong fingers tight in his shirt - shaking - the only indication of how nervous she must be. _No, not the only one._ Because when he took her weight against him, he can feel the strong fluttering of her heartbeat. Slowly and carefully, he helped her onto the wheelchair. She stared ahead, said nothing, but pain flashed visibly across her features.

"Erin, take it easy."

"Just bring me to him."

At his isolette she stared, eyes wide with something between horror and recognition. Her fingers skate over the plexiglass and he heard, half wishing he didn't, the exhalation escaping her lips that sounded more like agony than anything.

She whispered his name.

 _Jack._

He stepped back, taking one careful step at a time. Her pain somehow too big to intrude now. She needs this. He knows her and he knows what she needs and wants right now and that's to be alone with their son. Just the two of them.

"She's going to be okay." Dr. Forbes - Erin's doctor and whom Will said was the best - assured him.

"And the - and the baby?"

"It's early and the baby is right on the cusp of viability. We're going to do everything we can, but-" and there's an awkward glance at Erin's bowed head as they both turned to face the window - "you should understand that chances are very slim."

He swallowed hard. Just like that his whole world shifted. He's trying to understand but he can't.

It's all a blur of staggering sensations and heart-pounding disarray as he brought her back to her hospital room. There's the weight of her against him - so much heavier than she looks - when he helped her back to bed.

Her sobs were accusatory.

" _You_ could have saved him! Why couldn't _they_ save him?"

She's shouting at him - _no_ \- she's screaming at him.

"Er..." _How can she even say that?_ No, she's in shock. Of course, of course, she is. Their son's barely surviving. He knows she cannot be blaming him right now.

Smoothing tangled hair from her tear swollen eyes, he whispered, only noticing then that he too have been crying. "They needed to save you."

"No!" her throaty yell pierced right through him. She's scaring him. She's shaking so violently, it almost looks like she's convulsing. "They should have saved him. They could have - The doctor, she, she said-"

There's his own fear that grabbing her will hurt her, and the moan she can't seem to suppress when he does grip her by the shoulders, frightens him.

"It was too dangerous, Erin. It's unlikely he would have been able to stay in longer and you could have-"

"No!" she pulled away from him, then gasped at the overly fast movement jarring at her abdomen. Worried about injuring her further, he stopped trying to hold her and just sit by the side of the bed, watching her fall apart.

"Listen, Erin, please..." he's begging for her to understand. "It was too risky...Er, you could have died, it was too much risk for only a slight chance of-"

"No! No! I would have told them to save him! I would have..." She's crying too hard to even finish. Choking on each and every word.

Powerful, full-throated cries tore through her then while her entire body partake in the process. On pure instinct, he tries to draw her into his arms - or at least tried to because she had yet again pushed him away. "No! No! Stop!"

But he doesn't want to. He wants comfort, needs it - her. He wants to hold her, wants to tell her that he's sorry, that he loves her and their son too. So, he reached for her hand, then stopped again, suddenly feeling unworthy of it.

 _But you save the mother. You always save the mother._

 _Right?_

If guilting him, making him feel like a lousy father and a crappy husband was her initiative, then she's succeeded. Because that's exactly what he's feeling at the moment. This is his punishment for not being there, for authorising the surgery, for wanting her to survive.

 _But you save the mother. You always save the mother, right?_

He didn't see her cry again until he signed his son's death sentence for the second time - six days later.

From the beginning, they warned him not to let Erin get too attached with their son. The neonatal and cardiothoracic surgeon, then his brother, and finally the hospital chaplain.

 _But how do you tell a mother not to get attached to her own child?_

Because he too got too attached.

As her stomach muscles slowly regained strength, she spent more time in the wheelchair in the NICU, behind his isolette, only returning to bed at his insistence. He slept by her side as their world narrowed down to the NICU and her hospital room.

 _No._

Their world is tiny. One pound six ounces of fragile perfection.

 _No._

One pound six ounces of fragile perfection with an aorta a diameter of only a millimetre.

 _For your son, the left side of his heart is not able to pump oxygen-rich blood to his body properly and thus depriving oxygen from flowing to and from his lungs..._

On his second day in this confusingly colourful and vast world, they had to intubate him.

He's not a doctor and he doesn't really understand all the medical terms but he knows enough to understand what the doctor means.

Because it's only a matter of time now.

When Erin finally regained just enough strength, she began walking on her own propulsion, standing by the incubator. The wheelchair had long been discarded. And he let her because he can't stop her, he shouldn't have to.

Her eyes were so haunted that he could scarcely bare to look, and she plastered a smile on her blanketed face, then.

"He's stronger." she said, eagerly, like she's also trying to convince herself that he is.

He smiled back. Only because he didn't want to scare her with the horror that's right in front of him.

The hospital chaplain asked to spare a little of their time one afternoon and he talked gently about grief and acceptance, about letting go.

 _Erin wouldn't listen._

Before she had the strength to sit up, she would stuff her fingers in her ears whenever the chaplain would come into the room. When she's strong enough to walk, to storm off, she would just slam the door with a resounding thud.

"It's harder for her." Jay offered, by way of apology.

The chaplain gave him a sympathetic look. "It's hard for both of you."

On his fourth day, Jay decided to listen to what the paediatric cardiothoracic surgeon have been suggesting - to reason with her. "He's not going to improve." he tried, having found her hunched over his isolette, wearing his sweatshirt that's too loose on her frame now.

One arm shield her empty middle as if she could hold the baby inside her longer by sheer force of will.

"I know what's best for him, Jay." she hissed. "He needs the surgery."

She means _surgeries_ because it's not just one procedure. It's a series of procedures done in a particular order and in specific age and time, depending on the fact that he even makes it through the first. It's opening the walls of his tiny chest cavity, then poking and prodding and cutting and retracting and stitching.

A three part surgery that may result in lifelong complications.

Surgeries to increase blood flow to the body and bypass the poorly functioning left side of the heart.

Surgeries that doesn't cure, only help restore heart function.

And those surgeries aren't even definitive because his heart can still become weak and when that happens, a heart transplant will be needed.

He's in pain from the day he entered this world and that thought alone crumbled the walls he's built for the past four days.

"I know what's best for him too, you know."

She didn't speak to him for the rest of the day.

 _A day._

That's not so much, really. They are after all married. That is what marriage is all about. You fight, then you make up. And the cycle repeats itself.

But for a child who lives less than a week, it's more. It's practically a lifetime.

Because his health only deteriorated in the course of days - he lived for one hundred and thirty-three hours, and seventeen minutes - and he never became strong enough for the first surgery.

* * *

 ** _Please don't kill me . . . . :) I know, Adam and Erin. . . . These fools. . . .Please don't hate me. . . . :( I promise nothing else is going to happen between them two. . . . I know we all hate the idea of Ruzek and Lindsay (Linzek?). But just bare with me for a while._**

 _ **Thank you all for your patience and understanding and for sticking around. I hope this chapter made up for the inconvenience.**_

 _ **Please REVIEW!**_


	8. Chapter 8 : A Little Piece of Heaven

**Christmas**

 **-:- A Little Piece of Heaven -:-**

* * *

Dreams do come true - oh, yes, he believes they do. But then, he thinks about it in depth and realised nightmares are dreams too.

Nightmares do come true - oh, they definitely do.

It's like a tidal wave.

"Mr. Halstead?"

Washing over him ferociously, sweeping through his blood, claiming him in desperate surges as he jerks awake, hadn't realised he'd fallen asleep.

A doctor he doesn't recognise stands in front of him, breathless. And for a minute, his own breath catches as he tries to orient himself, tries to relax and dismiss the spiral thoughts of why this man's in a panic, a thought that's holding him hostage but they circle his mind in a wide, destructive path, over and over and over.

 _No. No. No. She can't be._

"I'm so sorry. But your brother told me to come get you. Your wife is out of surgery now."

"She did well." The doctor in charge smiles at him as he hovers outside the recovery room.

So, this is how they talk to families of patients, as if it's the patient's accomplishment and not the surgeon's.

"She's breathing on her own, responding appropriately to stimuli, and they'll start to bring her down from the pain meds shortly."

Jay nods, and brings a hand to the right of his face. "Her - her face?"

The doctor's face is set and another doctor, he thinks that's the plastic surgeon, interrupts, "When we got in, we were able to see that the damage was less than we had previously thought. It did require some plating -"

Jay flinches at the word.

 _Plating._

"- but I have high hopes for the reconstruction. Obviously there's some cosmetic choices she can take down the road ..."

There's that phrase again - _down the road._ He can't think like that, so he chooses denial instead.

Denial of today's surgery and denial of the most recent procedure before this.

 _The abortion._

Nausea climbs his throat, the sense of violation cloying, angering, frightening.

Her white face floats in front of him and he pushes down this latest betrayal, concentrates on the way the beveled cloth felt in his hands when he read the letters of his son's name. _J. A. C._ Thinks of the unfinished _'K'_. Thinks of his unfinished baby. Thinks of his mother's thick sturdy fingers pausing, tucking in the needle, folding it up.

This is all Adam's fault, he's tainted everything that's beautiful, everything he treasures.

It's also something different entirely, and he's not at all sure he's ready to face it.

Then, his brother is there, the warmth of his familiar face distracting him. "Let the man see his wife." he scolds, jokingly.

But there is no time to joke anymore. Forever, actually.

"You can see her now." they all conceded, and they smile at him as if it's what he really wants.

 _You don't even know what you want!_

With no articulable reason to hesitate, he opens the door and approaches her tentatively.

He can't close his eyes. The room creaks, the machines clicks and whirrs around the corners with her breathing and his heart thunders, every sound an ominous threat. Her eyes flutters open and close, the medication too strong a dose to keep her awake for more than a few seconds.

It could be four years ago except for the bandages obscuring half of her face.

There's a chair by the side of her bed.

He lowers his knees carefully, creakily, suddenly he's feeling ancient. Her uninjured hand is curled on the white sheet, a faint spot of orange on the palm. He has to look twice at the short, sharp nails that are so unlike her. Carefully, he slides his hand under hers and waits for her to notice his presence.

Her eyes flutters open, then.

"Hey." he leans in closer.

"Jay?"

"Yeah." he pushes his lips upward into the closest thing he can muster as a smile. "You're out of surgery. You ... umm ... it went well."

They're back to square one, where this end all started. _Strangers_. He hates talking to her like he hasn't loved her for years and years before already.

The world is upside down.

She turns her good eye to him. "Am I - did they -" her voice is hoarse.

"You're going to be fine."

He watches her blink and blink, eyes darts around, trying to take in her surroundings.

He opens his mouth, expecting some reassurance to come out - he's been by enough patient's bedsides to know what he's supposed to say in these situations - and is utterly surprised by what comes out next.

"You took the stocking from my safe. I saw it. It was still in the car."

She doesn't say anything.

He's surprised by his own surprise - he's a deliberate man, a careful man - outbursts like these are not in his nature. But she looks less surprised than he is and slowly the pieces starts to piece together.

"Erin, I - I think you might remember more than you said you do."

She's still silent. Her eyes are glassy behind fluttering lids.

He feels like a bully; troublingly the sick, he propose. But it still doesn't make him want to stop.

"That's why you wouldn't get out of the car."

No answer.

"Isn't it?"

She's still staring at the ceiling, not looking at him and his heart won't stop hammering against his ribcage, in his throat. He can't stop the annoyance that rises within him. Her silence feels petulant.

 _Doesn't she know, he wishes he could hiss, that he knows her secrets?_

"Erin. Ignoring me isn't going to make this go away."

"That's your strategy." She says it so quietly he can barely hear her, but there's an audible fierceness within despite her dry mouth.

He sighs heavily. "You could have been killed. It's just a - it's just a thing, Erin."

She says nothing.

"Is it worth dying for?"

She mumbles something that sounds like - _what's it to you? -_ and raises an eyebrow.

This is all wrong - wrong time, wrong place, wrong conversation. But he just can't stop himself, so he deals with the familiar feeling that their marriage is a conductor-less train on a rudderless track.

She stays silent for a while, watching him watch her and he thinks she might just want to be left alone until her voice finally speaks, small and fierce. "It's not just a thing."

"Erin."

"It's _not_."

Her voice cracks on the second word and he looks down, studying the pattern of fibres in the sheet.

He should have waited to do this.

He's ashamed.

When he looks up at her good eye, it's bright with unshed tears. It's uncomfortably reminiscent of her eyes in the bar on Christmas Eve, and he swallows, gentling his tone.

"Er, I have a ... I took a picture, when my mother - you know, when she gave it to us. I would have given you a copy, if you'd -"

"No."

"No, I wouldn't have?"

"No, I couldn't have asked for it. I couldn't -" she breaks off midway, voice so soft that it aches in his chest. "I couldn't have said his name."

Meant to or not, it stings.

"You still haven't. Not since -"

"I know."

She coughs slightly, pain evident in her features, and guilt sears through him again. She's coming off of hours of surgery and here he is, an ass.

Maybe a better man would offer her comfort, and not badger her with accusations.

But they're more truths than they are accusations.

He tries to practice reassurance in his head, but it's like another language. A foreign one that he's never heard of.

 _It's okay. Everything's going to be fine. I'm here._

Then, he remembers everything he knows and everything she didn't tell him.

 _Now I'm sorry, Jay, I'm more sorry than you can possibly imagine_ \- but, hey, will she even apologise?

Finally, he reaches for her hand but she pulls it back.

"I'm tired, Jay."

"Erin."

"Can you just - come back later?"

He stands up, looking down at her. It is how it often is - from far away, he feels sympathetic. He recognises her pain as an outsider might. The brutally poignant image of a woman fighting off two violent men in the hopes of keeping a memento of the child she lost.

From close up, he feels the familiar frustration; her refusal to talk about what needs to be talked about, her insistence on talking about things that don't.

When he's two steps towards the door, he turns back. "I think about him too, you know. I _loved_ him. He _was_ my boy."

She doesn't answer. Her eye is closed, she's either asleep or pretending to be. He waits silently until he sees a tear slip out from beneath the lid.

 _Pretending._

Figures.

* * *

Outside the room, he walks towards ... no, he walks aimlessly, his heart pounds with everything he can't let himself say.

The problem here - okay, one of the many many problems here - is that you can't be angry at someone who looks like that.

 _Broken. Disheveled. Weak._

All in the literal sense.

There are words for how you can feel about an officer with a casted arm or those shot or killed in the line of duty, an uncertain future or none at all, but it definitely is not anger.

Not at all.

He stops walking.

But he is nothing but angry right now.

He tries to get himself under control, slow the thunder of his heart, the choppy gulps of his breathing, running his fingers over his face to will the sting away.

"Jay?"

He looks up.

 _Oh, god, no._

"Go away, Ruzek."

He starts walking again.

"Jay!"

Adam catches up, tags alongside him. "Jay, would you just wait a minute -"

He doesn't wait. He can't believe this. After everything he sacrificed to try to work things out with Erin, to ask for her forgiveness, the entire foundation has been built on a lie.

"I don't have anything to say to you." he says icily.

"Jay, man, c'mon, listen -"

His sore fingers clench, fist curling automatically, defensively. "I'm not in the mood to listen to you."

"Okay. But _Erin_ -"

Still walking fast, he turns a corner, facing him. "I said don't ever mention her name to me, didn't I? But, wait -" Oh, he needs to say this. Oh, he wants to hurt him too. And he almost stops himself, just almost, but he continues anyway, "How sure are you, really, that _it's_ yours? It's not like she's been honest -"

"You're an ass, Jay," he spits.

Oh, he knows. They all are.

They both stop walking, as if by mutual agreement.

"And what are you?"

They just stand on the catwalk, both gazing straight ahead, not looking at each other.

"Is there anything else you two have been keeping from me that I should know about?" he asks finally.

 _Silence_.

He grimaces. "That's just perfect."

He leans against the wall, seeks support in cold plaster. He needs an escape. Escape from this - secret of their's. One thing she didn't tell him. One more weight in his arms and he's drowning in it.

Adam shakes his head and slides down beside him. "We never meant to hurt you."

"Maybe none of us meant to hurt anyone."

"Maybe ... She still got hurt, though."

Jay looks out the large windows at the slowly fading sun.

He sees her bruised face, the sounds she made when they cleaned her wounds, the agonising way she looked at him when he couldn't help her.

Remembers the night before, the way she turned away from him in the bar, covering her face with her hands so he wouldn't see her cry. How she slumped against him as they walked to his car across the very same parking lot where she was attacked. The emptiness in her eyes as they drove over the bridge.

And earlier, as he remembers her hand on the incubator, wedding rings flashing bright, asking him to do something.

 _Please, Jay. Give it back to me. He's - it's mine. I need it back._

Begging.

 _Please, Jay, please. I'm not ready. I'm not ready to say goodbye to him._

Stoic in the hospital, the taxi ride back home with no baby in her arms, the neighbours, the hallway, then, finally collapsing in his arms in the privacy of their bedroom, but still not crying.

The pain, she said later, was too big for tears.

Small and hunched on the stairs. Holding his face and pleading. She had cried then. Messy wet sobs.

 _Shut up! He's not a miscarriage, Bunny! Don't you dare call him that!_

It seems like so little, yet he says it anyway, with a nod of both agreement and finality. "Yeah. She still got hurt."

* * *

 _ **Four and a Half Years Before**_

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

He stands in a streamer of sunlight, dust particles floating in front of him, in a room that smells like flowers and sadness.

One by one people touch him, touch her, grasp their hands or squeeze their shoulders or lean in to kiss them with dry lips.

Everything about everything feels so very wrong - the sunlight pouring in from the park, too cheerful; the stale air, just barely circulating around a sea of dark suits and solemn dresses and pale faces; the strange, unfamiliar perimeters of the space.

He deferred to Erin on the arrangements, let her keep busy, as they all kept on saying, and he understands why she didn't want people to come back to their home – at home, Jack's nursery is still waiting for him, cheery yellow letter _'J'_ hanging on the wall, gray plush elephant perched in the stripped wooden rocking chair. It's a room full of promise, a room where he could have been very much alive.

Here, in the facelessly upheld Lincoln Park parlor, built only for grief and for gatherings like these forever now, there are no promises. Just chilly air pumping into rooms with soft carpet and bulging upholstery, the kind of furniture that tries to embrace you.

Everyone tries to embrace you here too, and he feels forced to accept it, as Erin stiffly steps back, only the slightest inclination of her tense shoulders toward the outpouring of sympathy. It was supposed to be a small group gathering, close friends and family, but Commander Fischer is here with his wife, the lieutenants of both their Districts and their spouses, and those officers that works at the same building as them but they hardly ever talk to.

He can tell she's quickly fading away and he lets his sisters take her while he tries to gently fend off sympathies on both their behalves.

Once he's had enough too, he goes to look for her.

He doesn't see her in the main area and figures she's gone over to the back.

Or she's found a secret escape hatch draped in soothing colours.

But the voices he hears as he approaches are anything but soothing.

"How could you – why would you even -" Erin's shaky, climbing high as a kite voice, he hears.

"Control yourself, Erin. You have guests." It's Bunny, oh that unmistakably chilly tone.

"I don't care about them." he hears her spit as he pushes open the door to see her face to face with her mother – not face to face, because she is taller even though both women are wearing high heeled shoes – similar ones too, toes pointed sharply enough to stab someone.

"Really, Erin. It's a lot of fuss, dear, for a miscarriage, it's not exactly uncommon –"

She's ramrod straight in black crepe, an angry flush staining her cheeks as cords stand out on her neck. "Don't you dare call him a miscarriage! That's not what he was!"

"Er." he intercedes when she starts to lift a shaking hand, moving in between them.

But she speaks only to Bunny. "Get out. Go, Bunny, now. Get. Out."

Her mother's face is perfectly set, emotionless, yet she somehow manages to still look … _concerned_ … ? in this strange sad hall where nothing at all is right and he's still trying to understand what's happening.

"Jay." she turns to him desperately, cold fingers tangling in his lapels, and he thinks he can feel her heart pounding against him. "Get her out of here, both of them, please. Please, Jay."

It's a blur like the blur of last week, yet again he feels certain that life will never be normal. And he has no time to slow down and think because Erin is holding his face between cold as ice hands now, pleading and pleading. "Get them out of here, please, Jay, I can't …" and he's taking her hands in his and making promises he hopes he can keep.

Bunny has already strolled out calm as anything after destroying her daughter.

He sees Adam out of the corner of his eye, doesn't have to exchange any words, just a glance, and Adam's at his side, one hand supporting Erin, another squeezing his shoulder. And then Voight appears and is there, looping his arm around her too and calming her down.

He walks right into Antonio when he leaves the room, who takes his shoulder just like Adam had – once again, he wonders if everyone else has a script, because they just know what to do here, in situations like this, and he, who's not even new to burying a loved one, has no idea at all. "Let me help." Antonio says and he goes to manage Bunny while he tries to find Bunny's third husband.

He spots his father-in-law in a secluded corner of the larger receiving room, talking, or something, to Brett, who is backed up against the ivory-striped wallpaper looking distinctly uncomfortable.

He turns when he hears them approaching, and Brett slides away from her post with noticeable relief.

"Jay! Good to see you." He sounds almost too cheerful – well, Mike has always liked a good party – and Jay finds himself unable to respond.

Brett rests a gentle hand on his arm.

He needs to say something, needs to get this man out of here, but words aren't coming out.

"Mike ..." he almost doesn't recognise Adam's voice - there's no laughter in it, no smirking, nothing at all, just calm competence. He almost forgot that Adam had been following behind him but now he feels reassured just by the bulk of him in his peripheral vision. "Bunny is looking for you." he continues. "She's ready to leave now."

It's a cool lie, one he could maybe have thought of himself, but didn't.

Mike follows Adam, and he watches him usher them out. He keeps watching until he can't see them anymore and then goes to find Erin again.

In the little carpeted room that reeks of flowers and tears, his wife is sitting on a padded bench between Louisa and Kathleen, ramrod straight, legs tightly crossed, folding and unfolding a towel.

"Are they gone?"

"They're gone."

She exhales, just slightly, but he can see it in the way her shoulders release. His sisters excuse themselves tactfully and he slides into place next to her.

She lets her forehead rest against his and he feels her shaky breaths against his face. For a moment they just sit like that, breathing together. "He wasn't a miscarriage, Jay." she says finally.

"I know." he says reassuringly, cups his hand around her head and pulls her to the shoulder of his suit. "Oh, Erin, of course he wasn't."

Her fingers are cold when she slides them into his suit jacket to get closer, holds onto the stiff fabric of his dress shirt. He can feel her heart thumping against him. He's not holding her as tightly as he wants to, worried about hurting her, she's been stiff since the surgery, and though it's hard to believe since a lifetime – an actual lifetime – has passed, it's barely been a week.

Her body feels different in his arms.

It's not the one he held last before Jack's birth, the morning before they left for work, pulling her in for a hug while he teased her about her burgeoning belly and she grinned and pretended to be offended.

It's not the body he held in the hospital either, when she let him, curved against her sliced-up stomach muscles, trying to heal. It's something new, _someone_ new, and he holds tightly, even desperately, trying to recognise her.

Her face is a white mask of misery when she pulls back, two small spots of colour on her cheekbones.

"I don't know why I …" her voice trails off, but he knows what she means.

 _Why did she invite her mother, and why did she bring that man?_

They never came to the hospital.

It was supposed to be a small service, family and close friends.

Bunny shouldn't even be considered as family even though she's her mother.

"Jay, promise me I'll never have to see them again. Please." her voice shakes.

"You won't have to. I promise."

He holds this strange-feeling version of her close, close and closer.

The part of her where their son should still be growing is pressing against him, and he wishes he could promise both of them what people keep trying to tell them, what Voight said at the hospital, what his mother whispered to him at the funeral home, what the bearded chaplain murmured at her bed - _you'll get through this. It's terrible but you can get through this, because you have each other_.

* * *

Jay decides, as they sit less than a foot apart on the catwalk, that this fragile peace with Adam is not unlike a hostage negotiation. Everything can change in a moment during that period; an outburst can become a downturn, a change of plan can rupture peace.

Now, he's half-ashamed of how he had behaved with Erin when she came out of surgery, half angry at the two of them for putting him in this position in the first place.

Still, he can't help taking advantage of this moment and without looking at his former best friend, he asks the question that's been gnawing at him since the police spoke with him.

"Can you please tell me what she said when you talked to her?"

"I didn't talk to her."

Jay looks up. "Excuse me?"

"I said I didn't -"

"Enough games, Adam. Have a little -"

"Jay." There's enough urgency in his tone to halt him. "I missed the call. I missed the goddamn call, okay?"

 _Oh. Ooh._ He can see it all too clearly now, the playboy and his Christmas Eve pursuits. No need to specify what he was doing instead of answering his phone.

Adam looks miserable and Jay waits for him to finish.

"I didn't pick up the call - I didn't know it was her, I didn't look - I heard the phone ringing but -" he breaks off. "She called in sick on Christmas Eve and the day before too. She hadn't returned any of my calls, not a single one, wasn't at her apartment - I had no reason to think she would, and I was, you know, I was with -"

Almost pitying him, Jay interrupts. "Fine. Then, what."

"She left me a voicemail."

His breath catches in his throat. "What did -"

Adam is staring out at the skyline and he watches his profile. For a moment it almost looks as though his chin is trembling. "She, um, she actually sounded pretty drunk." He gives a half laugh that sounds more like he's choking. "You know how she gets, she was kind of - wound up and just talking pretty fast. I didn't understand every word, but she said she had to get out of there and she said - she got _him_ back - I don't know who she was talking about."

"The stocking. She was talking about the stocking."

Adam nods, a light of understanding washes his face.

He knows.

"She was upset," he repeats. "She said her car wasn't there, and I - she didn't pick up when I called back. So, I left a voicemail. I told her to get the hell out of there if she had to, to call a cab."

He forces himself to answer calmly. "Where did you tell her to go?"

"My place."

"So, why the hell was she in the bar parking lot?"

"I don't know. Maybe she wanted to drive herself or she needed something from her car ... I just don't know."

 _Okay._

"Were you - was she - does she feel the same way too?" He says the words carefully, testing them, not sure what - if anything - the answer will make him feel.

 _Does she love you too?_

"No. That I know for sure." Adam's face is closed and white. Miserable. _She only loves you._ "I didn't kid myself that she ever would. She ..."

"Adam -" Jay shakes his head, not ready yet for more details.

"I just wanted to see her, Jay. She was - on the voicemail, she was crying. It was Christmas, and she was crying."

His stomach turns unpleasantly. There is no room in this story for him to be anything other than the villain.

Any responsibility Erin could have borne was snatched away with her car. It's not the kind of thought he could voice out loud, but one that haunts him anyway.

"You're the one," Adam's voice is tight, painful sounding. "You're the one who told me we had to make exceptions for her ... on Christmas."

He remembers those words. Remembers Erin making frantic preparations, begging Adam to go along with them. Remembers how she always looked forward to the Halstead Christmas every year, picking out gifts in advance.

 _It's Christmas, Jay. Our season._

* * *

 ** _Six Years Before_**

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

"I'm not putting that on."

"Adam!" Erin's hands are propped on her hips, her gaze disapproving. "You know the kids still believe. Come on."

"Then, you dress as Santa."

"I'm not the one with a beer belly." she raises an eyebrow and like Pavlov's dog, Adam grabs at his flat-as-usual stomach.

"I do not. I'll have you know I was just -"

"Cut it out." Jay interrupts them before Adam can ply them both with a story about the gym or one of his conquests. "Er, look, I'll wear it if Adam doesn't want to."

"No." she insists. "They'll notice if their Uncle Jay is gone because you always hand out the oranges. It has to be Adam."

"How about if Commandant Christmas just backs off a little bit? Maybe just as a Christmas miracle?"

Erin scowls at Adam, then turns pleading eyes at Jay.

"Look, man," he tries. "Can't you just -"

Adam has a strange expression on his face. "Forget it." And he tosses the hat and beard at Erin, whose fingers close moments too late to catch them, they land in a pile at her feet, before storming off.

Jay finds him in the kitchen. "Can you please just do this, Adam -"

"Why?"

"Because she loves Christmas, okay?"

"Yes, I know, Jay. Everyone within a twenty mile radius knows that too."

"Then, why can't you do it?"

"Because I don't want to wear an itchy, stinking suit and break my neck on your mother's roof again this year!"

Jay sits down next to him. "Erin loves planning this cr - this stuff."

"Yeah, I know."

He takes a deep breath. "I don't ask you for a lot, man. Not much, anyway. I looked the other way with Kathleen, I covered for you all the time with Voight, and I think I'm a pretty good wing man. This means a lot to Erin and I need you to go along with it."

"Why?"

Jay sighs. "Christmas is - it's important to her. She didn't get to celebrate the way she wanted, growing up -" he thinks of the childhood she's had, being raised by neglectful mother, cold and lonely and fending for survival and moving from one home to the other, never having time to settle in and grow to love as a family. "Look, I know she can be a little overbearing about it -"

Adam snorts.

"But, cut her some slack on Christmas. Okay?" he adds one last time, "It's Christmas."

"That word has officially lost all meaning."

"Don't let Erin hear you say that."

Adam scowls but nods, reluctantly, as he stands up. He claps his friend on the shoulder and heads back to the living room.

Erin is sitting on the couch, staring resolutely at the Santa hat and beard she's clutching on her lap. The Christmas tree lights are playing across her face, making her pale skin glow.

Jay kisses the top of her head. "Adam's in."

She looks up, beaming. "Really?"

"Really." He sits down next to her. "You know, he's just - Adam. He just needed a little push."

"Thank you." She kisses him, a hand sliding into his hair.

"How about thanking me?" Adam takes the Santa hat and beard from her lap and Jay feels the warm pressure of his wife's lips leave his.

"Thank you, Adam." she says pointedly and Jay rolls his eyes at his friend's look of mock-disappointment.

"Fine." Adam pops the hat on his head; it slips down to cover one eye. "But if I fall off the roof and break my neck you're going to be the one giving me a sponge bath."

* * *

"Can I please see her?"

Adam is watching him, an expression in his eyes he doesn't feel like deciphering just yet. With some effort, Jay peels his hands off the floor.

This time on the catwalk, these fragile moments, probably aren't even real, he reminds himself.

 _It's a dream._

Adam had betrayed him, slept with his wife. Got her pregnant while they were still married.

He swallows hard on his feelings about the abortion, still somewhat ashamed of how he pressured Erin about the stocking when she just came out of surgery.

There will be time to discuss it.

There has to be time.

"I'll think about it." It's a curt response because it's the best he can do right now and the gratitude in Adam's eyes is probably embarrassing both of them.

* * *

He walks the halls like a ghost, as much in limbo as his recovering wife.

"Jay?" It's Will with a look of sympathy in his eyes that he can't help but feel annoyed of.

"You should go home, get some sleep."

He shakes his head.

He hasn't been back to his apartment since ... and he fell asleep earlier, awakened by the doctor who told him Erin was out of surgery. Still, he's aware he's not a young anymore, not twenty-six or even thirty-six, and his body reminds him that it needs more rest to function properly.

"I don't ..." his voice trails off.

Not yet.

"Jay, c'mon, I'll keep an eye on her."

"Maybe later." he says shortly. It's not quite six in the evening yet.

Forgotten bells and tinsel still hang from the walls, days after Christmas. This no-man's land between Christmas and New Year's, these discarded December days, _have they always felt this bleak?_

* * *

The head of the bed is partially lifted when he gets back to Erin's room, propping her up. It gives her an aura of alertness.

"It's better for her to sit up as much as possible while her eye socket heals." the nurse chirps unnecessarily. "Obviously, we need to balance that with the trauma to her ribs and to her side."

"Okay." he says shortly, hoping she'll take the hint and leave.

"We'll need to get her walking in the next twenty-four hours, the earlier the better."

That's going to be an interesting ordeal.

She's not going to want anyone to see her.

"Okay." he nods again, still waiting for the nurse to take the hint.

As subtly as he can, he takes stock of her injuries. There's a cold pack along the bandages on her face, hiding some of the swelling. The bruising along her neck is darker now, her casted arm held away from her body in a sling. He thinks he is almost getting used to seeing her like this, and the thought worries him.

"Hi." he says when the nurse finally exits. He moves a few strands away from Erin's face, thankful that she can't see the state of her hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." Her voice is a croak and he pours water into a cup on the table by the side of her bed.

She raises her good hand, wincing slightly, to take the cup from him. He maintains his grip and they end up holding it together, Erin slowly sipping from the straw.

"Easy." he says automatically, mindful of the stitches in her mouth, and she nods slowly.

He takes the seat by her bed. "Are you ... ready to talk?"

She looks confused.

"You asked me to come back later, before - " now, he's confused. "When we talked - about the stocking."

"The stocking?" Her face turns pale.

"Erin, you don't -" he feels cold, all of a sudden. "We talked - don't you - do you remember us talking when you came out of surgery?"

"No." she whispers. "I don't - before surgery, I think, you were - here. I don't know."

"Oh ..." He sits down heavily, disappointed. "Okay ..."

He studies her good eye, tracking if she's perhaps lying. The first conversation they've had about Jack in years ... and she doesn't even remember it. Almost casually, he wonders whether that makes it harder or easier.

"What did we talk about?" she asks slowly.

His shameful summary consists of two painful words, "The. Stocking."

He sees her lips purse for a moment, as if she's about to say his name. She goes silent before a _'J'_ can escape, her lips stays pressed together. Almost like a kiss.

"I want it back." she murmurs finally. " _His_ stocking. Please. Do you - do you have it?"

"It's evidence. They said we'll - we can get it back when this is over."

 _When this is over._

He swallows hard on the words.

 _You have a long road ahead of you._

"Erin," he says carefully. "Do you, uh, remember what you're doing here?"

She blinks. "I got hurt." she says slowly.

"Yes. But -"

"Everyone keeps asking me if I remember anything." She's looking down at her good hand, folding and refolding the same corner of the blanket that covers her lap.

"Everyone?"

"Doctors. Detectives."

 _Oh_. He hadn't realised she'd remember that. "Do you -"

"They won't tell me what happened."

"I don't think they even know." he says finally, choosing his words carefully. "Erin, you were - when they found you, you were unconscious in parking lot of bar we were at."

He waits for shock, tears, anything, but she hardly reacts.

"Someone told me that already."

"Who?"

"I don't remember. I woke up in the hospital."

"Do you remember anything before that?" he prompts gently, a little bit worried about the answer.

 _It's Christmas, Jay. We love Christmas - at least we used to._

"I can remember being at the parking lot. I think I needed something from my car - I don't know. And - lights."

"Lights?"

"Christmas lights." Her good shoulder lifts in a half shrug.

He thinks of the lights at the bar, how they played off her white sweater. Of her hands gripping her drink, her long hair spread out on the surface of the table when she dropped her head into her hands. Christmas carols on the radio, the familiar bar smell in the air. Her weight against him as they walked across the parking lot.

"I'm sorry."

"No. It's good. You did good." He gives her a brief smile, reaching automatically for her good hand.

Her fingers run over his, her lips frowning, as she did what seems like forever ago. "Jay, did someone check out your hand?"

He closes his eyes briefly. "My hand is fine, Er. Don't worry about it." He squeezes her fingers gently.

She starts to smile back at him, wincing when it stretches her stitches.

Before he can remind her to be careful again, two doctors comes in, talking about post-op. And he asks whether he should leave but they just shake their head, "We're just going to take a look at the incisions."

 _Okay._

He feels the tension in Erin's hand, still in his.

"Is it -"

"There shouldn't be any discomfort in this part of the process."

There's a knock at the door. It's Voight. He glances down at Erin. Her eye reaches the knocks at the doorway and she almost hops out of bed then, but stays put, must have remembered that she can't. "Hank, finally."

It's the happiest he's seen her look since everything happened.

"Come in." she beckons him with her good hand.

He stands from his seat as Voight looks to him then at Erin then him again.

 _Shocked. Stunned. Surprised._

She's beaming, or what can pass for beaming through the swelling and bruises and Jay tries to distract her from the horror on Voight's face, helping her adjust the level of the bed and her pillows.

"It's fine, Jay." she stops him, then. And he doesn't know what to do now, so he extends a hand at Voight.

He's grateful that he takes it.

"Why don't you sit down." He pulls out the chair by her bed. "Have a seat. I'll leave you two alone."

"Erin." He touches her uninjured cheek. "I'll see you in a little while."

She looks at him and nods.

"Hey there, kiddo." He hears Voight's signature gravel tone quiver before pulling the door close.

* * *

He sees his brother again, who ushers him into his office.

This hospital is just too small of a world. He keeps on meeting people he doesn't want to meet.

"What is this?" he smiles nervously when he walks into his brother's office, eyes darting from one unfamiliar face to the other.

"Jay, we just want to talk to you." Will introduces the attendants in the room, and his stomach sinking as he makes through the rounds.

 _A psychologist. A grief counselor. The head of social work._

"What's going on?" he asks again.

"It's standard procedure, Jay, in traumas like this. We just want to talk to you." Will offers vaguely.

He lets their words wash over him.

Trauma and assault and post-traumatic stress and the one word he is beginning to loathe most of all, _time_.

Time this. Time that. In reality, there isn't enough of any time to do anything at all.

"It's going to take _time_. There is a long road of recovery ahead for her. She came out of this surgery well and that's the next step now. What thought have you given to long-term care?"

"Excuse me?"

This feels like a badgering. So totally unwelcomed.

Will clears his throat. "You'll have to go back to work eventually, right?"

"No. I'll take care of her. I've talked to my boss, she said I can take as much time as I need." he gives them a short answer, so he can get out of here.

They seem to be satisfied with that.

"She underwent a significant trauma. There are victims' services groups, here in the hospital -" oh, Erin would love that, he thinks bitterly - "and we want to encourage both of you to take advantage of counseling services."

 _Bring in anyone you want, Jay - I have nothing to say._

"I'm not sure she'd be interested."

They exchange another look. "We understand, but in cases like this there are often concerns about ensuring that the vic - that the patient and the family deals with what's happened. Obviously she's had to try to recover from the immediate physical danger, but as she recovers and gets stronger, the emotional component may become a larger issue."

 _Erin, in denial? Therapy? Counselling?_

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

He leaves with the only excuse he knows will work. "I need to check on her."

* * *

He finds his former best friend at the place where he would have gone anyway. Neither asks how the other knew where they were.

They just stand side by side on the catwalk, their self-appointed peace treaty, both gazing straight ahead, not looking at each other.

"What were thinking?"

* * *

 _ **One Year Earlier**_

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

He pauses with a hand on the door.

Everything is the same, and he knows what to expect when he walks in. He pushes the front door open and lets the central heating warm him; outside, it's ten below.

It's a Chicago winter.

The foyer is quiet; the only sound in the house is wafting from the den.

He sees the back of their heads on the couch as he walks toward the source of the noise, a movie flickering on the large TV screen. Neither of them turns around as he approaches.

"Hey." he says shortly, divesting himself of his things.

Erin swivels first. "Hey."

He nods at the television. _It's a Wonderful Life._ "Looks like you started without me."

"Pre-Christmas, Jay." Her voice has a very faint hint of accusation, a tone that would normally bother him, but he lets go of tonight. "We waited for a few hours."

She turns back to the movie, then.

"Well, Jane Doe thanks you for waiting so patiently." he leans forward, she turns her face up obligingly and he brushes her cheek with a kiss.

He nods at Adam. "Keeping my seat warm?"

"Trying."

"I'm exhausted." He tugs carefully at his leather gloves, loosening one finger at a time until he can slide them off, and unbuttons his coat. "I've been at the station for -"

"- two days." Erin finishes, her tone neutral. "Yes, I know."

"Right. Then, I'm going to bed."

"Jay." She half-rises, unfolding her legs from beneath. "Wait, I'll come with you."

"Thanks a lot, Erin." Adam makes a mock-hurt grimace. "I guess I'll just sit here by myself and wait for someone to help George Bailey tonight."

"You already know how it ends."

"Well, maybe it will be different this year." The light from the television illuminates an unidentifiable expression in his face.

"I doubt it." she smiles.

Jay finishes hanging his coat on the coat hanger and runs tired fingers through his mussed hair. "I'm going upstairs. Hey, man - crash here if you like. It's below freezing out there."

Adam glances up at him and Jay nods tiredly, stripped down to the brushed wool sweater he wore to work the day before. He sees Erin frown at the sight of his tie, one of the spares he keeps in the station.

 _What?_ he mouths at her and she backs down, shaking her head.

"Adam, you should stay." she echoes and rests a hand on the back of the couch. "The couch is all yours or the spare bedroom, if you want, and there are extra blankets in the closet in there, and towels in the bathroom."

"Thanks, Martha Stewart." he says, not looking away from the television. "Might take you up on that, but I'm not moving from this spot until the movie's over. A date's a date, right?"

"We could start over, now that Jay's here ..." she trails off, looking past him.

"A four-hour movie?"

"It's not even close to that long!"

"You can stay and watch, Erin." Jay interrupts, his tone patient. "I'm going to go right to sleep anyway. I need to be up at six."

Adam is already too engrossed and distracted by the movie again, apparently, to make any innuendo-laden comment from that - which is so unlike him.

She just hovers in place, half on and half off the couch, looking from one of them to the other.

So, he waits, walks further into the room - overtired at this point, his hands need to do something, and he reaches for the empty wineglasses on the coffee table, balanced between a stack of open magazines.

Adam glances over. "Umm, man, you're kind of in the way."

He steps back, away from the television. "Sorry." The glasses can stay there for one night.

Adam settles back against the couch again. "Thanks."

Erin stands. "Okay. I'm going to bed. Adam, I'll see you in the morning?" There's a question mark in her tone, but he doesn't answer.

Jay mounts the stairs and she pads behind him.

Her footfalls and her manner are tentative; they had both been in bad moods the last time they spoke, tense and short with each other. If he knows her, she'll be extra sensitive about it now while he's willing to offer some magnanimity with his genuine exhaustion.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier." he offers along with a brief smile as he sits down on the chaise to remove his shoes.

"It's all right. Adam was disappointed, though." she adds quietly, pulling back the duvet to reveal cream-coloured flannel sheets.

They talk past each other in neat, curt sentences, where, once upon a time, there would have been accusations and tears, raised voices and lowered eyes, now they can speak coolly without responding directly to the other.

Mostly he thinks it's an improvement, they've been married for years. Nearly seven. They can communicate without all that unnecessary passion.

She's wearing his old Hawks sweatshirt and loose flannel pajama pants. He's had that sweatshirt since high school and it's ratty and so old as anything, but fleecy soft.

He's relieved that she's not nagging him tonight, and with the loosening of the guilt in his stomach comes the expected feeling of generosity.

"Cold?" he asks her conversationally as they slide under the covers.

The room plunges into darkness as they tug the chains on their matching bedside lamps with practiced symmetry.

"Not really." she says, but the toes that brush against his are like ice.

After a few long minutes of staring at the paisley patterns behind his lids, he rolls over onto his side, trying to get comfortable without disturbing her.

She's breathing deeply, but he can't tell if she's asleep. Tentatively, he reaches out, grazing the fleecy material of the sweatshirt.

The moment he makes contact with her, he realises he's not sure why he's done it.

She stirs, whispering, "Jay?"

She sounds scared.

"Yeah." His hands are back on his side of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Did I wake you?"

"No."

Here they are again, those short straightforward sentences. Talking past each other.

"What's wrong?" Her voice is hoarse in the dark. The double-thick shades mean that he can't see much of anything. He can't make her out at all.

"Nothing, Erin. Go back to sleep."

"Night." she mumbles, and he hears her roll over, further away from him.

"Goodnight." It takes him longer to fall asleep than it should for someone awake for the last thirty-six hours.

He lies silently, listening to the faint sound of the television wafting up from downstairs.

Adam is still watching _'It's a Wonderful Life'_ on their couch.

But there's nothing wonderful about their life.

* * *

Jay shakes off the memory with a corresponding shake of his head. Adam is watching him, probably isn't sure what he's talking about.

"You knew we were having ... _problems_. So, why you did what you did?" he asks finally.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you. I guess in some way I thought I was doing you a favour."

He can't speak. "How -"

 _How is he doing him a favour?_

"You didn't talk, you guys didn't - it's like you both just - seemed to stop noticing each other. You were busy, Jay - I mean, you were both busy, but you seemed fine, where Erin - she was just wilting. She needed someone."

"She could have told me."

"I don't think she knew how." he says cautiously, clearly trying not to break the fragile peace they've established in this circumscribed spot. "I think she did the best she could. I don't think she's so good at asking for what she needs. You just - you always gave it to her, without her having to ask. And when you stopped, I don't think she knew how to try to get it back."

He's silent, turning this information over in his mind.

"After ... _what happened ..._ " Adam says quietly - because no one speaks directly of their child - "I think she just kind of shut down."

That he knows.

He found her more than a few times in the half-assembled nursery, looking over boxes and bags of things they'd never get to use.

They should be given away, he said. But she didn't want to. She didn't want to do much of anything - see a grief counselor, establish a memorial fund, talk to his sisters, or anyone, eat.

And nothing he said helped. "We'll try again when we're ready."

But she'd turned on him. "Try again? Try again? He's not some - golden retriever that was hit by a car and you can distract me with a new puppy!"

She looked as surprised as he was to hear her words like that. He stood in the doorway of the small, sunny room, light and shadows playing on her pale, strained face.

She apologised, then. Put her arms around his neck, whispered that she hadn't meant it.

But she had, of course.

The problem was that they meant everything they did to each other.

* * *

 ** _Thanks for reading guys! Sad? How do you feel about Adam? Please leave a review!_**

 ** _REVIEW!_**


	9. Chapter 9 : Tears in Heaven

**Christmas**

 **-:- Tears in Heaven -:-**

* * *

In life we all make plans, whether it's the baby you didn't know would leave you better off dead or the one you didn't plan on conceiving at all or the job opportunity, that's eleven hours away, you only take to get away from all the pity eyes, from all the constant reminders, from all the _he would_ _have_ _beens_ because every day now, regardless, is a _would have been_ or the matrimony that ends in tears and shoves and screams and slaps and hate and loss and denial and regrets and silence - _yes_ , sometimes the plans we make don't turn out the way we expected, because by trying to help out, we may damage a relationship, by attempting to reach out, we may push someone further away, by digging into the past, we may enrich our present.

Lies are truths we wish to hear and truths are lies we wish were real.

But it is true, the saying that the truth will set you free because the truth is the freedom from the guilt most of us feel when we lie.

Well, not necessarily a blatant lie, just the untrue we tell ourselves and those we care enough to lie to, to feel better about it all. Like the personal life we don't have but still hold on to with calloused hands because the memory of it is just so heartbreaking and beautiful and tiny and all yours.

So so tiny. So so yours to cherish.

His personal life. What's left of it is still dozing away when he walks into her room, a nurse discreetly checking her IV greets him with a smile and he returns it.

He glances at her chart on the table, mouthing her name, followed by his - _Erin_ _Lindsay Halstead_ doesn't sound all that foreign yet. He sees her stir slowly as she wakes, sees the moment her confinement registers with her. The one eye darting across from him with sheer confusion to the white walls, and she starts to stretch awake in that familiar way.

She stops abruptly, whimpers and flinches.

"Easy." he warns quietly.

She doesn't respond. She doesn't have to. He knows that for a moment right there she had forgotten, and he's silent too while she tries puts herself back together, relax her muscles as pain-free as possible.

It isn't. It's evidence on her face.

"How are you feeling?" he asks when she's finally unstiff and sitting up.

She doesn't look at him, only stares straight ahead with her good hand seated on her lap and he can't help but wonder why.

He thought they were more or less okay now. _Civil_.

Because all in all with what he knows now - _shouldn't he be angry at her?_

He is and the worst part is he can't express it without being the bad guy.

"Thirsty."

He pours her a cup of water then, holds the straw to her lips.

"I heard you're going to walk today." he tells her.

She gives him a half shouldered shrug.

"I'll walk with you. I have a delivery today ..." - it's sort of true anyway, he has to go to work, the boss whose name he dares not say had called because the guy covering his shifts had called in sick and today's shipment is kind of for a very important client, it's nonnegotiable - "But I'll be back before they get you up. Okay?"

"Yeah, fine." her voice is still slightly hoarse and pained. Well, a lot more than the usual, that is. "Were the guys - in here?"

He flexes his shoulders just slightly at that, maybe his jaws even squares and he clears his throat, he remembers and is reminded again why he can't be shouting at her - _is_ _she trying to ask about Adam by asking about the guys in general?_

 _Is it a far-fetched theory he's trying to hold on to?_

Regardless, he makes no direct mention of him. "I think they stopped by. Maybe you were sleeping."

"I think I remember." she then pauses. He almost sees an ' _A_ ' forming. "Who else -"

 _Does she want to know that he's forbidden Adam from coming any close to her room?_

"Voight, Will, Natalie." he says, "If they count. I - didn't think you'd want too many visitors."

"I don't."

"Well, I'll get the word out." he touches her hand. "You should rest. Save your strength for walking."

It's only then as he wrinkles his nose does he notice the flowers lining the opposite wall. He's really not sure how he had even missed them before because at least one of them is immensely pungent, and he itches his nose at the overly sweet smell. "What are those?"

She makes a face - or tries to at least. "Word got out, I guess."

He walks over to the display.

There's a massive urn of lilies, a brightly coloured, rather tropical looking assortment and some kind of plant he doesn't recognise. He checks the card - ahh, now it makes sense. _Kim and Sean_. They would send a plant; they're all about holistic methods and California sunshine now. If she were feeling better, they'd joke about it. Then again, nothing is like before. Firehouse 51 sent something relatively small and tasteful, and he's thankful for it all, the well wishes and thoughts and prayers but it all just reminds him of all the flowers and the well wishes and thoughts and prayers they received the _last time._

And he knows she must be reminded of it all too.

That could very well explain her mood.

He knows for a fact that this is the work of his family, the phone tree activated, and he's been free to ignore the messages piling in on his cell phone, the emails loading up too. Louisa, the organiser, she would have made the calls. Kathleen, the shrink, would have helped her figure out what to say.

"A lot of people are thinking of you." he says finally in the pregnant silence and really, for the lack of something better to say.

"Send it all to paediatrics, will you? Or the one with the old people? You know what, just take them to both."

"You don't want to keep any of them?"

"No." she makes that half-face of something again.

 _Angry? Hurt? Confusion?_

"It looks like a funeral home in here."

The image is chilling, and it makes him remember things he'd rather not. "Do you at least want to keep the cards, or -"

"Just get them all out of here, Jay."

She's staring at the ceiling, her nose twitching slightly as if she's itching not to smell the flowers anymore.

 _Okay_.

He bends to kiss her cheek before he leaves. "I'll be back later to help you walk."

"Did you reach Bunny?" she calls after him, his hand already at the door.

He turns back, nods.

"Is she -"

"She said she would."

Erin smiles.

"I don't know if you should get your hopes up." he starts before he can stop himself, then regrets the words when a shadow crosses her face.

 _Jay, promise me I'll never have to see them again. Please._

He had told Bunny not to bring her husband along this time.

"Sh never been the best, but she's still my mother, Jay." Erin sighs deeply.

 _Tired? Sad? Frustrated? Angry?_

It could really just be any one of those emotions.

"I know."

He knows and he knows that no matter how many times Bunny fails her as a parent or all the vows Erin makes of never wanting to see her mother again, she'll always always find a reason to pardon her doings.

And this time it's the classic _she's my_ _mother_ , and it's one he cannot argue with.

It's a cycle. And he's learnt a long time ago to accept their relationship for what it is because there isn't anything he could do to ever change it.

"She'll be here." he assures her.

It's not a lie. It's also not untrue. They are just both unsure, skeptical.

And so the conversation goes, as though things are normal.

 _Like before._

He's glad in the end, because the look on her face as he leaves is something like of a smile and he finds one of his own touching his lips in response.

He closes the door quietly behind him and walks straight into Adam in the hallway.

So much for the smile.

"Stalking me?" he spits, rolling his eyes.

"I want to see her."

"Don't you work?"

But Adam shakes his head, tells him that he's taken some time off.

"Doesn't mean you can lurk outside her door like this."

And he looks almost sorry. Just for a second, though.

"Can I please just -"

"She's sleeping, Adam."

If she can lie to him, he can lie to Adam.

 _Isn't that only fair?_

"Can you at least tell her I want to see her?"

"You never give up, do you?"

Adam is silent, contemplating, then he meets his eyes. _Courage_. "And you give up too easily."

A laugh that's not in any way of humour expels on his side and for a minute there, they just stare at each other - battle, combat, _no_ , a challenge - not speaking. He shakes his head, disappointed at himself for even wishing things could go back to the way they were.

So so stupid.

"Stay away from her room, Adam."

"I know you haven't told her I'm here. She'd want to see me, Jay." Adam calls after him as he walks away. "What are you afraid of?"

 _The nerve._

He strides fast in an attempt to walk off the anger. He doesn't want to go around punching anything he sees anymore.

He spares himself some pity stares with his next cup of coffee, hiding by a corner at the surgical waiting area. He's always considered himself to be a fairly gentle soul, occasional temper notwithstanding, and the persistent stone of guilt within him is wearing him down. He swallows the caffeine and lets the unwilling image swirl in the cup - Erin, _pregnant_ with Adam's child, aborting it and never telling him.

It's one more cruelty visited upon him. So ... pedestrian, really.

He's left to sulk, to only mope around all on his own because he has no one to talk to about it. The ones who could've - his two best friends are the ones who had betrayed him.

"Jay?"

He pries his eyes away from the swirling cup.

"Do you have a minute?"

He shrugs. It's Natalie.

"I get that - you're angry - it's hard to have Adam here."

"Yeah." He looks down at his hands, anywhere but at her because - maybe there are tears in his eyes. They do sting a little, he's not going to take the risk of facing her, though. "Okay."

Hard doesn't even remotely cover how he feels about his former best friend being everywhere at once.

He hears her voice again, pleasantly scratchy. "Are you sure you don't want to talk?"

For just a moment, the wall, the one he's put up with twice as thick reinforced encasing at all four surroundings, melts away.

He sees Erin across the breakfast table, sharing a glass of orange juice with him. Through the lens of memory it looks like fantasy and he shakes his head at his own stupidity.

The way Erin looks at him now is different.

Just as he knows, Natalie looks at him differently too because she knows, not just about the cheating or their baby, the child they never got to know - she was there to witness it all too, she was the aunt who stayed up all night at the NICU with him during those miserable six days when both of them couldn't, who sang to him, read to him, fed him too, counted his fingers and toes, loved him, who made sure he'd know he was never alone for even a second in this world.

Jack wasn't only their loss.

But it still feels like no one can ever _ever_ understand.

He despises pity, he's vigilant and roots it out before it can fester. But she doesn't even know everything yet.

She knows about Jack but not what came after.

It's comforting somehow to think he can still hide something; it girds him, helping him draw breath and with the security of the secret, the anger is free to flood him again, and it does.

"Jay?" she prompts.

"She had an abortion and didn't tell me. My _wife_." he fairly spits out the word, she's still his wife even if they're _legally_ separated, a compromise. "And my best friend conceived a child while she and I were still married." Because technically speaking, they're still _legally_ married, just living separately.

There's something like wistfulness in her eyes as she nods. "Do you think she should have told you?"

"If it wasn't Adam's then -" he breaks off before he can say _no_. Because, really, that would be a lie, "I don't know."

He sees her again hunched and in a yellow gown, struggling to stand by the incubator.

 _Please Jay, they have to do something - the doctors - He can't, Jay. He can't die. I - I ..._

He tries, with almost a physical strain, to shift his memories. To recolour the past. To imagine that sometime in the previous two months she had been pregnant. Erin, _pregnant_. He tries to picture her at the appointment - probably a friend of hers - _what friend? Or was Adam there? Holding her hand as the doctor vacuumed away their mistake?_ He sees her again, stiff in black crepe, cords at her neck standing out as she finally raises her voice - _Don't you dare call it a miscarriage! That's not what he was!_

"Does she - know that you know?"

He shakes his head, wondering what the conversation would look like if she were whole and healthy and not in the literal sense of half broken.

 _You don't even yell anymore_ , she'd sighed once before, well after that thing they don't dare talk about happened. Maybe a year. _Isn't that a good thing_ , he didn't ask her. Just screamed it in his head and walked out.

He thought about the antique vase, a wedding present, shattered all over across the floor of their foyer. How small she'd looked, crouched over the remains, trying to salvage the bigger pieces.

"Jay, it's not the same thing, I know. But after Jeff died - I came back here, and I was angry. I was angry at him for leaving me, but I couldn't be. He was a soldier, I knew the risk - the chances, you know, when I married him. It was no one's fault. So then -"

"You weren't angry anymore?"

She shakes her head. "No, I realised I was only angry at him _because_ I couldn't be angry at him."

He ponders this for a moment, thinks about the impossibility of raging against someone virtually trapped in a hospital bed, with nothing else to do but wonder whether her arm and leg would heal enough to allow her to pass the physical and gun qualifications again.

 _Down the road ..._

He knows Erin, and he knows with certainty that she won't be able to survive through the night if she were told she'll never fully and completely heal because being a cop is all she has left now.

She's not a mother anymore.

She never was a sister.

 _A friend? A wife?_

A cop all she is now.

* * *

 _ **Seven Years Before**_

 _(Flashback)_

* * *

The door swings shut behind her and he pushes it back open, following her outside.

In the den, Adam, Louisa and her husband, David, are still in a picture perfect circle by the roaring fire, a deck of cards spread between them. He can hear Adam cheerfully suggesting strip poker as the door closes behind him.

"Er, don't do this."

He grabs both their coats from the hooks by the front door, trails with her down the flagstone steps.

"It's just frustrating." She stops halfway to the gazebo and doesn't resist when he drapes her puffy white coat over her shoulders.

"I'm sorry." he offers, more as a preventative measure than a cure. They do say that prevention is better than cure. _Right?_ Save her tears, save him from having to inquire what's wrong.

It's not that he doesn't care, it's that he doesn't always know what's expected of him.

 _Remember_ , he told her once, _I've never seen a marriage up close. Not really._ She'd widened her eyes at that, those beautiful sad eyes. _Neither have I, Jay._ Her father was out of the picture long before she even took her first step. And all the potential husbands Bunny brought home after that were hardly ever father material.

There was so much he didn't know, then.

Now, as he shrugs into the ski jacket she had bought for him, he thinks about what it means to know someone better, about the fine line between predict and prevent.

They walk silently and in sync, to the gazebo. She leans against the newel post, waiting for him, and he realises he's not sure he wants to have this conversation after all.

"Look, Erin, we don't have to talk about this right now." he digs his hands into his pockets, looking for gloves or warmth and finding neither; the nylon is bare and chilly against his fingers. "Mom was just calling to wish us a Happy New Year."

"And to drop more hints."

"She was just kidding." he defends his mother to her automatically, as he defends Erin to his mother too when she makes the occasional comments about the daughter-in-law who is - _Just a little different from what I expected, Jay._

"What about you?" she turns her face to him with an arched brow and in the low lamplight - it's yellow and dreamy, reflecting off the frosty grass - her eyes are a bottomless green. "Are you just kidding too?"

"But I didn't even say anything." he shrugs, being his hands up in question.

"But you want it, Jay."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. I do want it. When _we're_ ready."

"You're -"

"No, it's _us_ , not just me that matters. _Us_. When _we're_ both ready."

She sniffles, nods and he thinks he's said the right thing for once, and then kicks himself for taking it one step too far. "But what is it, Er? Why is it so crazy to think that maybe _we'd_ be ready - soon?"

Her eyes darkens and he rests a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Maybe it's because I was raised by wolves." she smiles when she says it, but the grin doesn't reach her eyes. "Or my job - our job, Jay. What if something happens to either one of us? Or both? And there's a billion and one things that could go wrong in a pregnancy."

"But that doesn't mean anything." he pulls her closer. "Our baby would be _perfect_."

"Jay, don't say things like that!" she draws back, looking annoyed.

"Sorry." he waits for her to lean against him again. "I just mean - the odds of a problem are slim, Er, you're still young -"

She snorts.

"You are."

"Your mother doesn't think so."

"How did she get back into this?"

"Jay, she gave me a scrapbooking kit for Christmas!"

"What's so bad about that? She got me a book on fly fishing."

"That's different."

"They're both hobbies."

"Okay, seriously, Jay, you cannot compare those gifts. First of all," and she ticks the examples off on her fingers as she always does, which he usually finds cute, "You actually like fishing, not that I support that boring hobby, but, you know, just to be clear here. And as for me, I do not like scrapbooking. _Scrapbooking_ , Jay!"

"Second of all?" he prompts.

"Second of all, it could not be a bigger hint."

"How so?"

"A scrapbooking kit just says ' _why haven't you given my son a baby yet_ ' but with crafts."

He smiles in spite of himself. "Erin, don't you think you're being a little sensitive?"

"No." she scowls, but doesn't really look that angry.

"She complained again, at Christmas, didn't she? - Jay?"

"She didn't complain."

"Honey, you're a terrible liar." she says slyly, shaking her head.

He kisses her, which normally is a good distraction but when he pulls back, she's still looking fixedly at him, those forest green eyes, so he concedes - somewhat - with a sigh. "She just asked, that's all. Expressed an interest. It's not a federal crime."

"I knew it!"

"She wants grandchildren."

"She has grandchildren coming out of her -"

"Erin." he interrupts reprovingly.

"Sorry." she doesn't look so sorry, though. "But Jay, did you see how she looked at me after Kathleen announced Peter's promotion? And she asked ' _does anyone else have any news to share?_ '"

"So?"

"So, she was waiting for me to say that _I'm_ ... _pregnant_." The words does sound strange coming out of her mouth and she pronounces them almost with wonder.

A question mark.

"I think that's a bit of a leap, don't you think?"

She folds her arm crossly. "I know what she was thinking."

She looks past him for a moment.

 _Angry? Frustrated? Annoyed?_

It's definitely all of the above.

"Erin, c'mon. Whatever you think she - look," he takes her hands in his, "It's _our_ decision, not hers."

" _I_ know that. But I don't think she does. Someone should tell her."

He frowns. It's not supposed to be like this with Erin and his mother, the two of them pitted against each other. Each one drawing him aside, separately.

"Er, look, let's just - enjoy the night, okay?"

She looks up at him under her lashes, her voice silky when it slips between suddenly smiling lips. "What did you have in mind?"

He kisses her, slow and sweet, thinks about the year ahead, grateful that her sometimes quick moods means that she will eventually be his again. "I was thinking we could wait for the others to pass out and then explore all those nooks and crannies in the house that we haven't seen yet."

"And find more problems with it ..."

"The biggest problem with this house is that it's too cold for you to wear that white bathing suit." he slides his hands down the puffy down fabric covering her ams, thinking about the skin underneath it.

She arches an eyebrow at him. "And how well do you think that bikini will fit when I gain fifty pounds?"

And they're right back where they were.

"Fifty?" Now it's his turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Kathleen gained sixty with Rosie."

He chuckles. "Kathleen uses pregnancy as an excuse to see the world as a smorgasbord."

She laughs in spite of herself. "And Louisa gained -"

"Twins don't count."

She shrugs. "We could have twins."

He thinks of it. Two babies at once, fat and rosy and smiling.

"Jay, I want to have a baby. I do."

"Really?"

"Yes. Just - not now. But I do want one."

"Okay. I'm glad."

She leans against him and he rests his cheek on her fragrant vanilla-smelling hair. "I want it all - the babies, the screaming, the drool, the diapers, the stretch marks -" she glances up at him when he winces. "Oh, yeah. Haven't you seen -"

"I'm begging you to not mention one of my sisters."

She giggles.

* * *

 _Shit._

He's late.

 _Shit!_

He rushes through the hallway as quickly as he can, it's not like he can just push through the fragility of the sick, but by the looks of it, he's mere minutes too late and he opens the door to see Nurse Maggie helping Erin back into bed.

She turns dark, fierce eyes on him, one hand on Erin's good arm.

"How did it -"

"She did great." she announces gleefully, her face, though, is another story, "No thanks to you." she adds in a hiss. Erin's back is to him, taut and still and he can't tell if she's heard him.

He spreads his hands, then tightens it back altogether, familiar feeling of guilt reaching his palms. "I was at work. There was a ..."

 _How many times he's said those words?_

Maggie shakes her head and he thinks he hears her muttering _work_ under her breath.

"Halstead."

He looks up, not having noticed the other man in the room, and nods. "Voight."

He swallows hard.

Voight is somewhat glaring at him but not in that angry kind of way that he normally does, maybe it's because he's finally understood him - work can get in the way someone, and Maggie looks like she would like to slap him.

Ruefully, he shakes his head, remembers being somewhat well liked in this hospital a few short years ago.

But if they knew he was feeling more sorry for himself instead of Erin, _how much more contemptuous would they look?_

But then his wife makes a small sound as Maggie eases her onto the bed and his stomach twists.

"Erin -"

Nurse Maggie is quick to talk over him. "You were fantastic, Erin. Now you know you should expect to be -"

"Exhausted." she finishes.

She's pale, perspiration dotting her upper lip. Maggie fusses with the covers and then takes a step back, crossing her arms and her eyes glowers up at him.

"We'll leave you two alone, then." She looks as if she's not at all sure it's a good idea while Voight makes a short round towards Erin, kisses the top of her head that makes her smile, then turns to him, eyes a message, perhaps a threat, but the room empties nevertheless, the door swinging shut with finality.

He meets her eye carefully and she speaks first. "Hi."

"I'm sorry I missed it."

 _How often has he said those words too?_

She shrugs slightly, just her good shoulder lifting, and he sees her wince.

"Erin," he tries gently. "It's going to take time."

"Spare me." she studies her good hand for a moment, then turns her bruised face toward him. "I get it, Jay, okay? I know what it's like. I've had -" she breaks off, then says the word like a wound - " _surgery_ before."

"Okay." He takes her hand, trying hard to keep his tone patient. "So you know that it's normal to be tired -"

"I know that!" It's clear from her expression that the exclamation hurt. She lowers her voice, takes a shaky breath. "I chased after a perp five blocks and tackled him down myself just last week, Jay, so if it's not too much to ask, I would just like a minute to get my head around the fact that it's fucking exhausting to walk six feet down the hall."

He looks down, chastened. "Right."

 _If you don't want me here and I don't want to be here, what the hell are we doing?_

 _So, go, then! Walk away!_

"I'll leave you alone then." he says tentatively and she purses her lips, not responding.

"You know how to reach me." He can't read the expression on her face. "Get some rest." He leans over to kiss her, muscle memory taking over, leading him to plant a marital peck on her pursed lips, a fraction of a second before he realises his mistake.

She cries out at the contact with her stitches, tears springing to her eyes.

 _Shit._

"Erin, I'm sorry." _Shit_. "I'm so sorry, it was just -" _habit_. The word almost slips out.

 _How many times has he kissed her like that, how many quick hellos or soft good nights or brisk good lucks?_

"It's okay." Her voice is raspier again; she draws a shaky breath and raises a hand toward her mouth slowly, almost in wonder.

 _Should he call Maggie to have a look?_

But she isn't too fond of him right now and Voight gave him that look that pretty much says ' _think twice before you do anything, Halstead_.'

"Can I -" he gestures to her face.

She nods and he takes a glove from the box by her bed.

She holds very still as he leans over her, carefully taking her chin in his bare hand. Between his fingers her strong jaw feels oddly delicate. A surge of something washes through him, a feeling he can't quite identify. Choosing action over insight, he uses his gloved thumb to pull down her lower lip as gently as he can.

" _Ow_."

"Sorry. I just need to look -"

The inside of her lip is pink and raw looking, making him swallow hard, but the stitches are neat and pristine, undisturbed. He decides it's best for him if he doesn't call for help. He removes both his hands, strips off the glove and discards it before addressing her again.

"I'm sorry, Erin. That was careless of me."

"It's fine."

"You're okay?"

She gives him a sad half-smile. "Yeah. I'm okay."

Only one eye is visible and it's very bright. He could fall into those eyes again. He has, he thinks, in the past, they're teary indescribable colour doing him in, one stupid choice at a time.

"Do-over?"

She furrows her brow, confused.

He leans over carefully and kisses her again, next to her mouth this time, well away from the stitches.

"Better?"

"Much."

For a long moment then, he just looks at her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He's not even sure himself.

So for another minute they just look at each other. The secrets between them are an ocean, a bridge he can't bring himself to cross. The break past which things might get easier - or the undertow that could finish them off once and for all.

"Erin -"

His phone interrupts them and he smiles in spite of himself at the message, pleased that for once he can deliver to her exactly what she wants.

* * *

His mother-in-law is as expected flirting with the male nurses at the nurses station when he gets there - with what, he isn't sure, but he's seen her done it a thousand times too many before.

Judged her for it too.

She's a woman in her sixties - _oh, did he mention she's married too?_

"Jay!" Bunny smiles broadly, and he wonders if he's been clear enough about why exactly they're here.

"You should prepare yourself." he tells her, short and curt, straight to the point before leading her to Erin's room. But she just brushes it off.

 _Of course_.

"When has Erin not looked great? She is my daughter after all."

That's right, she wouldn't know. She never made it to the hospital last time. It was his mother fussing over her in the hospital bed, his sisters helping her to bathe and dress.

"You said she was doing well." she reminds him.

He nods. "She came through the surgery well, she's been up and walking -" he winces slightly with guilt at the recollection of that - "but she's been through a lot, Bunny, and she's exhausted."

"Then, let's not tire her out by making her wait."

And he pushes the door open.

"Bunny, you came!"

It's the happiest he's seen her look since Voight came the other day and it's really really confusing him.

 _Because has she forgotten that she hates her mother? Has she forgotten what Bunny said about their boy? Has she forgotten why she was screaming at her mother the last time she saw her?_

"Come in." she beckons her mother with her good hand.

But Bunny stops so suddenly in the doorway that Jay crashes into her back. In spite of himself, he starts to feel sorry for her. "It's not as bad as it looks." he mutters, lying through his teeth, hoping Erin can't hear him. "Go on in. It's fine."

Erin is still beaming, or what can pass for beaming through the swelling and bruising and Jay tries to distract her from the horror on Bunny's face, helping her adjust the level of the bed and her pillows.

"Why don't you sit down, Bunny - Bunny." he says sharply when she just continues to stare. He pulls out the chair by Erin's bed. "Have a seat. I'll leave you two alone."

But his mother-in-law is still looking at him with what seems like desperation, her eyes darting from Erin to Jay to the door.

 _No. No. No._

"Sit down, Bunny." he offers again, more firmly this time. He smiles at Erin. "I'll let you two catch up -"

"No, I - excuse me -" and then Bunny's gone, the door swinging shut behind her.

 _Shit!_

Jay and Erin exchange a look.

 _Shit!_

She's the one to speak first, "Go see if she's okay?"

He shakes his head.

 _No._

"Jay, please."

He huffs. "Fine."

When he leans over to kiss her again, the hurt is evident in her eyes.

Bunny, she's doing what she does best.

 _Run_. Run when things get tough.

 **XXX**

He checks the nurses station to no avail.

He asks a staff passing by to check the women's washroom, the same outcome.

With a sigh, he pushes open the door of the stairwell, hoping he'll be wrong. Bunny's there all right, crouched over on her haunches and heaving, trying to breathe.

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. With needy people everywhere, there's no chance for him even to sit down with his own anger.

Steeling himself, he approaches her.

His mother-in-law stands up, breathing shakily, wiping a hand across her mouth. "Sorry."

He leans against the wall, folding his arms, and nods.

"It's just - god, I didn't realise."

He studies her. She seems sincere, the colour leached out of her wrinkled face, the wide, green eyes she shares with her daughter is watery with pain.

 _She's still my mother._

He understands the ' _still_ ' in that context now.

"How could someone do that to her?"

Jay shakes his head. "It's - I know it's hard to take in."

"You're cool as a cucumber." her tone is bitter.

 _Is he?_

He thinks of the way she tried to scream, the first day they cleaned her wounds. Remembers getting in her face as she panicked, his own heart only slowing when her breaths did. Letting his fingers linger on the smooth undamaged skin of her cheek.

"I've had more time to get used to it." he says finally.

"Is she really going to be okay?"

He pushes off the wall. "Yes. Her doctors said she will. But it will take time ..."

There's that line again.

"It's Erin we're talking about, she will be okay."

"But her face." she whispers and Jay's watching her misty eyes and sees the moment pain turns to memory.

"I remember when she ..." her voice trails off, looks like she's wanting to stifle a cry, then starts again with a sad smile, "It was a long time ago, she was about three ... I remember it like it was yesterday - you know, she had this big, rosy cheeks, smiling with those dimples, she was so happy, then. Always smiling ..." her hand then flickers across her own face, "She kept asking for a new toothbrush, the one where the handle's a princess. She wanted the princess from - the one with the beast - I can't remember what she's called but that's what she wanted for her birthday. So, I got her one and she was so happy, so excited, that silly girl couldn't wait to brush her teeth but ..." of course, the inevitable ' _but_ ' and he braces himself for the awaiting tragedy in this story, "my mistake was sitting her down on the kitchen counter. It was a high countertop - I left to get something from my car. She must have tried to reach for something - I don't know. I heard a loud crash and I ran back inside - there was blood everywhere, she was lying on the floor - her face - I was totally freaking out. I was so scared." she admits.

She looks down at her hands like she's holding something, a child - _Erin, perhaps_. "I thought the worst - but I checked, she was breathing. And I rushed her to the ER - the whole time I just kept thinking about her face." she takes a deep, shaky breath. "It was different back in the day, people think you have to be beautiful to get a man and all I was thinking I'd messed up her face forever that no man's going to want to marry my baby girl."

Bunny's shoulders are shaking visibly but she swallows hard, gets control of herself, and Jay tactfully gives her a moment while he pictures Erin on the floor, a baby, so much smaller and bleeding and her mother, helpless, not knowing what to do.

 _Familiar scenario. Familiar helplessness._

He knows the feeling. He hates that feeling.

He did have a child once upon a time.

 _Remember?_

He couldn't do anything then too and as a parent, it comes naturallyw to want to.

"Listen, she's going to look more like herself as she heals. The doctors did a good job." he says finally.

She nods, staring at the tiled floor.

"It's still Erin in that bed, Bunny. She loves you and she's happy to see you and I think you're going to regret it if you don't go back in there."

She nods.

In spite of himself Jay feels some pity. "Why don't you get some air, a cup of coffee ..." his voice trails off. "She's not going anywhere."

 **XXX**

"How is she?" Erin asks eagerly when he walks back in.

"She will be fine. She's still the same ole, self-centred Bunny." he adds, unable to help himself and at the expression in Erin's eyes, he sighs. _Apologies_. "She'll be back. She's just ... getting some coffee."

She shakes her head, carefully. "I look that bad ..." her voice trails off, somewhere between a question and a realisation. "I must. But - the rest of you didn't make it seem so ..."

 _Bad?_

That's because he's seen worse in his time in the Rangers or when he was a detective, they all have, but he's only, as Bunny had said, as cool as a cucumber because he can still see her through the damages done.

She looks the same.

He sits down next to her. "She was surprised, Erin, that's all."

"Jay ..."

"It's going to take time." he parrots the words that annoy him and she makes a frustrated gesture with her good hand.

 _Finally. Something we agree on._

"I want to - I think I want to see it." Her uninjured hand drifts toward her face and automatically he catches herdelicate fingers in his own, lowering it gently back down.

"I don't know, Erin."

"It's my face, Jay." she sounds like she wants to argue, but doesn't. He doesn't too. She's probably too tired to start one.

"Of course it is." He studies the battered flesh, the sutures visible where the tiny metal plate is ensuring the future of her vision and the shape of her face.

Those elegant cheekbones. The bruising at her neck is _harmless_ \- he almost laughs at the inappropriateness of the term - but it's jarring, speaking of her struggle and pain and other things he hasn't yet allowed himself to think about.

She's watching him, waiting for a response, so he punts. "I'll ask Will what he thinks, okay?"

She nods and they sit in relatively calm and mutual silence, waiting for Bunny to pull herself together.

It's not long.

"Dandelion!" Bunny swings through the doorway, a big smile on her face. From where Jay stands it looks plastered on but it's better than nothing. She's washed her face, her colour is back, and Jay now knows why Erin's too much of an expert in pretending and hiding.

She approaches the bed. "I'm sorry about before, I -"

"I'm just happy to see you, Bunny." She extends her good hand. "Come sit?"

She takes the chair next to the bed, smiling shakily at her daughter.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Erin says bravely.

And then - suddenly and with no warning - Bunny is crying, the choked, ugly cries of someone not used to making a noise, her shoulders shaking. Embarrassed, Jay starts to turn his back. Erin is tearless but looking with something between confusion and horror at her mother.

 _Goddamn selfish Bunny_ , holding it together and falling apart at all the wrong times.

More sounds escape her, she's losing control and he wonders if he should do something. But he's frozen too with indecision; it's Erin who acts.

She lifts her good hand, presses it to her mother's cheek. "It's okay." she murmurs, just once. And they sit there like that, Bunny crying and Erin, silent, cupping her face.

 _Where was she when Erin needed her four years ago?_

Jay steps out to give them privacy, closes the door behind her with barely disguised relief.

He's exhausted; he can't remember an encounter with Bunny that hasn't left him feeling the same way. _Tired. Relieved that it's over. Faintly guilty._ He leans against the wall, scrolls through his messages. Missed calls from his mother, and his older sisters.

No sight of Adam.

 _Great_.

* * *

An hour passes and he walks back to Erin's room to check on her; she's half asleep, the chair by her bed is now empty.

She stirs awake when he approaches her.

"Bunny left?"

"She went to her hotel."

Sometimes he forgets she does live in Chicago anymore.

At his silence, she shakes her head. "It's hard for her, Jay."

 _It's hard for both of you._

He takes her hand automatically as he sits down in the chair her mother had vacated. She turns slightly to face him and their eyes lock.

That's when it happens.

He couldn't describe it if you asked him in the moment, he'd only be able to mutter vague, meaningless and very nonsense blabbers - a decade and more of loving each other and family. But he could swear he sees the light in her eyes change and the grasp on his fingers tighten when she speaks.

"You know."

He doesn't have to ask what she means and she doesn't have to explain. Two words hang in their air between them. It seems terribly important for some reason not to let go of her hand, so he simply nods.

 _He knows._

His affirmation seems to undo her; her fingers go limp within his, her lips are curling downwards and she's white as the sheets again.

She looks remorseful and he thinks he can forgive, then.

But it's their Jack she's replaced.

He just holds on, waiting to see if the shattering of this secret will push them past the break - or sweep them underwater one more time.

He knows.

* * *

 _ **What do you think? How will they both act? Especially Erin? I'd love to know your thoughts!**_

 _ **Reviews are greatly appreciated.**_


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